


A Life of Sin

by TheLoneSurvivor



Series: Redemption Through Heroism [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Origin Story, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneSurvivor/pseuds/TheLoneSurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My origin is not a story of happiness. There is no fluffy beginning, middle or end. Tragedy, corruption and depression fills it, as well as cuts, burns, bruises and broken bones. It is not something I am proud of, but it sets the stage for how I, Ember’Xaelas nar Vryntael, became the single most important Quarian in the galaxy. And <em> that </em> is something I can be proud of."</p>
<p>Part 1 of the official 'Oblivion's Call' rewrite. Certain tags will be added as the story progresses. Features a Quarian "Shepard", a healthy amount of canon divergence and sparse joyful moments.<br/>***Currently on hiatus/very slow updates! Will be worked on when more time is found.***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Well now, it's finally up! I've decided on the first person POV for one major reason, aside from me liking this style the most: it let's Ember really express her personality, which was heavily lacking in 'Oblivion's Call'. This is a brand new tale and a brand new Ember. While I will keep a number of things from Oblivion's Call, expect a lot more filling in for this part of four (potentially more) novels that follow Ember's life from before ME1 to after the events of ME3.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this new rendition of both Mass Effect and Oblivion's Call.

There’s too many people moving about. I mean, the _Vryntael_ is always busy but never _this_ busy. People, hundreds of them, are all gathering at doors, my father and I included. I don’t know why, but I don’t think it’s good. My father squeezes my hand and I look up at him, disappointed I can’t see the expression in his eyes. All I can see are the bright white twinkle of what look to be stars, but what I assume to be eyes. The only things they can be.

“Not long now, my little fire,” my father says and my heart settles a bit. I wish mother was still alive to be with us. I never fully knew life without her though, but that doesn’t mean I’m fine with her gone. If she was a parent, and I loved her as much as father, it makes me feel terrible.

But at least I have my father. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Probably be living with another family, I would suppose. I’m glad that didn’t happen though. I love my father too much to want a different life. Plus, being called ‘my little fire’ is just fine with me. Makes me feel special, albeit a handful. I guess that’s the whole point and meaning, though. That and being a sign of affection.

I try to look through the forest of rubber-covered quarians but to no avail. “What’s going on, dad?”

He looks down at me with a blank expression, from what I can see at least. He might be smiling, frowning or any range of emotions that I simply can’t see. It’s a long number of seconds before he speaks to me. Sometimes he doesn’t like his ‘I will always be honest and truthful with you’ rule. “Something bad is happening on the ship.”

“Like what? A malfunction?” I ask, making sure my voice isn’t carried farther than I intend it.

Father nods slowly. Fuck. “Yeah, apparently the reactor core is going haywire and we all have to evacuate or risk dying along with the ship.”

Well then. That’s terrible. Certainly not good for a weekend, that’s for sure. “Will we make it on the ship out of here?”

My father shrugs and I frown. “I don’t know, Ember. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. We have no way of fully knowing.”

We move forwards in the crowd of people, which means that we’re getting closer and closer to being picked to go on the way out with our lives. I can’t see any of my friends with me, although I don’t have many. They all live on the other side of the ship so I guess it makes sense that they would go to another shuttle off the fastly failing _Vryntael_ instead of going the long way to the other side of the ship to see me. I mean, I’m a good friend and all but even I don’t think I’m worth risking my life over.

But wait. What if the ship actually does explode and my friends are on a different ship? Wouldn’t that mean I’d be without friends? Well, not entirely true. A few of them have Omni-tools like myself and we have one another’s contact information so I wouldn’t be _entirely_ friendless which is a huge relief. But what about the rest? Hm. That isn’t good. Not as bad as an entire ship exploding but it’s still not good. And what about school? I know I’ll still go to one eventually, but how different will the classes be? Will they be easier or tougher? I hope Xeno Studies is at least just as good, if not better. Xeno Studies is always the funnest class to learn because who _doesn’t_ want to learn about other sentient races with their own cultures and ways of life?

Xenophobes I suppose…

The crowd thins further and I feel my heart continue to settle. We’ll make it. We have to. Well, not true, but we should. Who can deny a seventeen year old to survive? According to the majority of quarians, I’m the future. Or the future is in my hands. Or some other phrase that almost means the same thing with the words just being mixed and shuffled around. Doesn’t how it’s said, it has the same general meaning that I can do what I want and what I do will reflect in history.

Probably only the slightest bit, though. I’ve already resigned myself to a life of unimportant solitude where I program a few things. Been working on a few projects under my father’s guidance but they haven’t gotten anywhere. I’ve programmed a bit of an administrative AI to help me with my math but that’s about it. Father never lets me show anyone else though, worries about the Geth and all. Who knows what will happen in the years to come though. Sometimes I fantasize that I’ll be the person who makes another sentient AI and they’ll beat back the Geth and we can live together in harmony. That’ll never happen though.

The Geth have lived on my homeworld for over two centuries now and they have made themselves all nice and cozy. I’ll never be able to dislodge them from our home now. Maybe if the other races had helped us when we needed them, this might not have happened and we might not be nomads, but life is life and bad things happen even when you don’t want them to.

Finally, I can get a good look at what’s going on. There’s three men and one woman carrying guns, lazily, and looking at people for a moment and then pointing to the inside of the shuttle to where the quarians make their way into the shuttle and I hope that we will be under the gaze of those people at the right time. That’s all I can hope for right now, and I know my father is hoping for the same thing. Every single quarian in the group is, actually. Except for the people who don’t know, then I guess they wouldn’t be hoping to get in the shuttle.

My father continues to grip my hand. Not too hard, but not to gentle either. It’s firm and says more than words ever could. I squeeze his hand back and move a little closer to him, out of the spot where I can see what’s going on. Whatever happens, as long as I’m with my father, I’m completely fine with whatever happens. Even death.

A few agonizingly slow minutes pass as people are funneled into the shuttle and finally, we’re in the front. Two more people are allowed to go inside, a man and a woman who I cannot be sure are related. I doubt it since they were on opposite sides of the semi-circle which has formed around the guards. A quarian dressed in slightly fancier clothing steps out cautiously, as if he would be trampled and crushed underfoot as a huge crowd overpowered the guards and made it into the large evacuation shuttle. The man who just emerged from the shuttle whispers something to the nearest guard, a lithe man wearing deep blue clothes, because when I look at him, my scarlet visor turns his suit purple and I know basic art and colour theory.

The guard nods and the man heads back inside the ship. The guard waits several second, looking us over and takes a pace forwards. He points at me. “You. You’re welcome in.”

I take a step forwards, with my father following but the guard shakes his head regretfully and I know why when I hear the next three words from his mouth. “Just the kid.”

The words hit me stronger than the might of a krogan. _Leave_ my father behind? Why can’t you just stuff him into the shuttle too? Why only me? But despite my urge to argue, I remain quiet. I look back to my father, who looks from me to the guard, waits several seconds, and then nods. “It’s okay, go on with them. I’ll be right behind you on the next trip over.”

This time, my heart doesn’t settle down even at father’s words. I don’t think I could ever leave him if I wanted to, not until I was old enough for my pilgrimage at least. I agree anyways though, and take a few more steps towards the shuttle and the airlock tunnel that leads into it. When I make it to the guards who are all looking at me and occasionally glancing off to the crowd at any sudden movements, I turn and wave a small farewell to my father. I should see him again soon. I’m worrying over nothing.

I have to be.

My father returns the departing gesture and a part of my mouth quirks into a small smile. I make sure to take as little time as I can activating my Omni-tool and snapping a picture of him. Just for good luck. Then, I’m walking through a tunnel small enough to give a Terran rodent claustrophobia and into the cramped shuttle. There’s hardly any room left and with the four guards walking behind me, now I can see why my father wasn’t allowed to come along. And I know why I was. Despite my figure being close to that of an adult’s, I’m still smaller and can fit more easily. I'm only a few years off of being an adult though, so it makes sense I almost look like one.

Since I have no one to sit with, I chose a secluded spot near the back of the shuttle away from everyone else and the farthest from the shuttle doors. I find a window and look out of it, at the dazzling stars that shine like beacons of hope in a rippleless puddle of ebony oblivion, and at the _Vryntael_. Shoddy patchwork covers more of the ship than I care to admit and compared to something like, I don’t know, any ship but a quarian’s, it looks like something that should have broken down a century ago, but still plugs along only because we have kept kicking a feeble horse, as humans say, that has little to no will to live, and now it’s finally showed that it’s well and done.

At least the stars are orderly in a sense. They all abide by the rules physics and live as long as they’re programmed to. No less and no longer.

The ship lurches out sideways for a moment and then starts to drift of away from the only home I know. I watch as the ship, which despite its appearance is huge, shrinks in the distance. I hardly even notice or register someone sitting beside me until I look and see him. He looks to be the same person who had said I could come on, and I have no idea how he made his way from the front of the ship to the back, but kudos to him for that. He still has a suit of purple, or blue, I can’t be sure, and defined features that show through his suit that leaves little to the imagination, just like mine and everyone else’s.

“You all right?” He asks. I can hear the genuine concern in his voice and I can only shake my head the slightest bit.

“Not really. Wish I didn’t have to leave my father behind but I can see there’s barely any room to even breath.”

The man nods sympathetically and moves away a bit, probably to give me a little space. Always nice when adults don’t try and get in your personal space. “Well, there’s a good chance that you’ll see your father again. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.” He looks at the slowly shrinking _Vryntael_ and sighs, looking back to me. “Got a name?”

Of course I do. And I guess it’s only formality to say it to who you’re speaking. I wonder why we didn’t do that at the beginning of the conversation. “Ember’Xaelas,”

“Pretty name.” The quarian tells me. “I’m Col’Hedal, militia of the _Vryntael_ after I decided to spend some time away from the warships. Ah, but I’ll return to being a full time soldier soon enough. Not like I miss it though.”

So that explains the muscle and how he carries himself with so much confidence, someone could drown in it. But he’s by no way giving off the impression that he’s anything but a good person. So that’s nice. “I’m just a student who loves history, especially Human, fiddles around with math equations and spends more time on my Omni-tool than I’ll admit.”

It’s at that moment when my AI decides to let me know I have a new incoming message. That’s the first one in a long time. A few months I think? “Ember, you have a new message by ‘Lyna’ which you should look at soon.” It flicks off a moment later, ceasing the calm bright blue light that looks bright purple to me, that glows from my wrist.

Col looks down at my wrist, where my Omni-tool and the simplistic AI I made resides. “Well that’s the first time I’ve ever seen something like that.”

I all but freeze in place. AIs are extremely dangerous to have around and with an almost complete stranger seeing it, what would he do? I could have my Omni-tool taken and be sent to do… something really unenjoyable. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I manage to say softly, pleadingly.

Fortunately, Col nods. “I won’t tell another living soul.” He promises.

I breath out a sigh full of relief, probably a little too loudly, and quickly check the message. Col waits patiently as I do.

_Ember, are you off the Vryntael? I am, heading off to a ship I don’t know the name of. I heard that the ship’s core is malfunctioning pretty bad and could possibly explode. Just making sure you’re safe and all, can’t have you dying right?_

I respond with a simplistic message, saying that I’m fine and off the _Vryntael_ , and that we’ll talk later. But I’m more than grateful that _someone_ cares enough about me to contact me in a time of crisis. After that, I turn my attention back to Col. He’s looking at me casually. “Mind explaining the robot?” He asks in a hushed voice, passing under the unintelligible words, to me at least, of others on the ship.

I suck in a breath of air and wish my face could experience wind smacking against it. Oh, how I envy humans and their non suit-restricted lives. Just like every other race too. We’re a unique breed of sentient life, too lazy for our own good. Some say humans are the same as us and the last I checked, they haven’t got themselves exiled from their home planet after losing a war against robots they created, so they’re better off than us. “I dabble in making computer programs from time to time. He helps me with my math and science when I need him, plus he makes good company despite being nedas close to sentient.”

“He?” Col asks and I can practically see the one eyebrow of his raised to the heavens.

Do you really have to be like that, Col? “It,” I correct. “I like calling it a he since it has a masculine voice. If I really want to, I can program a female voice into it, but I spend enough time around girls as is.”

Col nods and goes silent for a while and I delve into the realm of my Omni-tool, adding some extra lines of code to my constantly improving AI. I add a few additional words and abilities, like being able to search the extranet for additional information to help with projects and such. Who needs people to work with when you have a program you can code to do what you want when you want? Much more efficient than dealing with another individual, I say.

By the time I look back at Col, he’s looking off into space, literally, and I move to join him.

Hundreds of millions of stars are visible, maybe even billions, although I doubt it highly. We aren’t in a particularly dense section of stars in the galaxy, so less stars are visible here, but it’s still very pretty. Sometimes I wish I could have a different name to represent the beauty of space, like Nova. That’s a pretty name, a feminine one and one that I wouldn’t mind carrying with me at all. But I’m stuck with Ember, which is great in its own right. I probably shouldn’t complain. I’ve got the most human name in my family, oddly enough. My mother was fascinated by human traditions and it seems like I’ve carried that on. Father always says I’m more like my mother than I know.

I wish she hadn’t been such a militarist, determined to kill any and all Geth wherever they were found. She was almost fanatical, following her logic and words as if it was a religion. I only heard the story mumbled from father when he drunk his sorrows away for night after night for a few years. Then he stopped and life went on as normal as it could without mother. But whenever she’s mentioned for more than a fleeting few sentences, father pulls out the bottle when he makes it back home.

A few times I hid the bottle from him and told him to spend some time with me instead and that always worked, but there are times when I simply can’t get to the bottle in time before he’s swimming in it.

But from how much he says he loves her, I can understand why he has the bottle.

The ship lurches for a moment and I’m nearly thrown from my spot at the back of the ship. Col reflexively puts out his hand to stop me and I feel it brush against my spine, between my shoulders and cast him a glance, smiling even if he can’t see my expression. He gives me a look of his own before moving his head in the direction of the front of the ship, essentially saying “Something happened. Let me find out what.”

I nod my understanding and go back to look at the _Vryntael_. It’s a small ship, about the size of a toy model, to my eyes and covered in dull scarlet from the colouring of my clothes and tint of my visor. I guess father and mother felt it was appropriate I had a suit with the colouring of my namesake. I can only shake my head and cringe at how much that cost them. The Migrant Fleet probably didn’t even have the materials for my suit colouration so they had to go out and buy it at some place like the Citadel or Illium.

Imagine visiting those places… _That’d_ be a story worth telling if I go there for my pilgrimage. Ah, if only. A girl can dream, I guess.

By the time Col comes back, a lot of the people within the ship are gone and I can only assume that we’ve boarded the ship we’ve arrived at and I stand up from my seat when he approaches. Sometimes, I _really_ wish I’m older, because goddamn Col is good looking! I mean, he’s got the standard build that a soldier has but his personality compliments his physical shape more than I think he knows. Or maybe he _does_ know. “Right, well as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we’ve reached our destination, the _Rayya_. I found us some lodging a little further into the ship than where everyone else is staying. I can only assume that since you’re all the way back here and not trying to socialize, in addition to the fact that you’ve got a little AI with you, you’re not much of a social person. Fortunately, neither am I. So, I took the liberty of finding us a good spot that not many others reach.”

Wow. That was unexpected, and also one of the best things I’ve heard since things on the _Vryntael_ have gone to shit. I’m amazed that I’m actually a twinge calm about it. I think it’s just that I’m overloaded with so much fear and worry that I appear calm on the outside, if that makes any sense. “Well, you got the part that I’m antisocial correct as possible. And I never would have guessed that you’re not too social either. You walked up to me and spoke pretty easily.”

He shrugs. “You spoke easily too. Plus, you look like you needed some company. I’m not entirely antisocial, I just am more introverted than many of the other people I know. Now come on and let’s get out of this mess of people and relax a little before I have to go back and get more quarians back here onto the _Rayya_.”

I, once again, nod my agreement and begin walk off with him through the tight corridors and cramped alleys of the ship called the _Rayya_ . It’s a nice enough place. Doesn’t have the same feeling as the _Vryntael_ . I feel distinctly foreign, despite looking no different than anyone else on the ship and being of the exact same species. I pass by groups of families and friends in the main area of the ship where the majority of people are staying until either they get to stay here forever on the _Rayya_ as part of the worst case scenario or we go back to the _Vryntael_ in a few days and we resume our normal lives.

I desperately hope for the latter rather than the former. But hope is infamous for being fickle and has as much reliability as rolling one number three times in a row on a twenty-sided die.

Small murmurs of gossip reach my suit and my ears but I can’t translate from garbledese so I just shut it out as best I can, focusing instead on what’s going on that’s of importance like if Col is speaking or someone else is drawing my attention. Several people look at us with a few blank expressions, but that’s only because their suits make it impossible to see their emotions, and I wish I could make myself very small and unnoticeable. But if Col isn’t fazed by it, I suppose I shouldn’t be either.

We’re close to making it to the lodging Col got us eventually, after walking through a mob of people all going to, presumably, the large location that is probably bedroll city by now to see what is going on and learn what they can. Hell, I even saw a few people my age or even younger going there too. I just want to get away from it all and so does Col. His movements are unyielding to anyone of a lesser authority than him as he pushes his way through the crowd, sometimes literally, determined to get to some peace and quiet, presumably. That’s the reason why _I_ avoid people, in any event. People are always too noisy and have too much to say sometimes and can drone on and on forever.

But sometimes I’m known for being a hypocrite.

Col waits as a rusty old metallic door slowly slides, and hisses, open after we make our way to where we were going. The place is oddly enough a bar that has a second part for spare rooms for people down on their luck like us with a set of stairs made from roughly cut metal attached to a wall. The opening to the top layer, which was once a small apartment complex I can assume, is nothing more than a hole in the floor and ceiling that I actually really want to know the story behind. The oddest part about the melted floor is the fact that it was never fixed or adjusted in any way, which is why I have to crouch as I climb the stars in order to avoid hitting my head on some melted metal.

There’s two beds which are on opposite side of the single room, with a small bathroom installation set up over in one of the corners of the room, blocked off with some metal walling of course. Got to have _some_ decency! Along with that, there’s three lockers set up for what we might need and I know that food is served downstairs at the bar. Odd how they let a teenager who’s still four years away from taking her pilgrimage into such a place without any complaints. Maybe I just look like a short woman in comparison. I was never really on the thin or underdeveloped side, in any event. Well, ever since my eleventh birthday celebration.

Col takes the bed closest to the door and leaves me with the one pressed up against the wall. I also chose the locker closest to my bed and Col follows suit and we both agree that the middle locker is for stuff that can be used by both of us. Col loads what little he had on him into the locker, including his submachine gun and one of his two knives; one strapped to his calf and one on his belt. He keeps one of the knives and the pistol though, saying to me “Can’t be too careful.”

I know people aren’t ever supposed to be with people they don’t know, but I think I can trust Col. Plus, I can scream real loud and Col doesn’t lock his locker so if he really tries anything bad, I can defend myself adequately. Of course, him leaving his locker unlocked says volumes of how much he trusts me, as he locks the door that we use to access the single room house with the small hallway that connects the door to the actual apartment part of the section of the ship.

Time passes slowly and I hear a soft chirping noise coming from Col soon enough. After he checks it, he gathers some of his stuff and takes off once more, saying that he’ll be back in a few hours and leaves the door, locking it as he leaves.

I turn over and only then begin to drop any pretenses that I am anything resembling calm and I cannot stop the flow of tears that burst from me like a pair of geysers. Somehow, I manage to drift off to sleep.

But my problems only get worse in the morning.


	2. Tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. The second chapter for A Life of Sin. I'm not sure how long the times between the uploads will be, but it all depends on how long the chapter will be/is and if I can manage to take time off Stellaris to write more than a few hours at a time.  
> Hope you all enjoy the new chapter, and feel free to show your support for the story!

Dawn, if you could call it that, isn’t easy for me to endure. I awake alone, the monstrous puddle of blankets on Col’s bed indicating that while he slept, he isn’t around anymore. A quick scan through the entire few meter-squared room verifies that Col is nedas here. His absence isn't nice. It makes me feel like I'm the only person left alive. I know that's not true, but it sure feels like it with no one to be with me.

I get up slowly, my joints protesting their discomfort but I ignore it and check the body mirror close to my locker, trying to find anything wrong with my suit before going out. I’m not going to spend much time in this cramped and unfurnished room for any longer than I have to before I figure out if I can start furnishing it or not. Checking my suit takes a few minutes but it’s fine as the last thing I need is to die from some stupid disease around here. Why couldn’t we all have just lived our lives _outside_ of the suits, even once we were exiled? Couldn’t we just make ships with our atmosphere and not waste extra currency on suits and other stuff that would be entirely pointless if we didn’t wear the damn suits for centuries?

Maybe I’m not getting the full picture or reason of why we have the dumb suits in the first place. Something to do with a failed attempt to get a new homeworld, I can tell that much, but is making our immune systems so bad we could die from a thing like the human cold, a disease infamously known for almost never killing anyone or anything, really worth it?

I sure as hell don’t think so.

Bah, too early to be thinking of stuff like that. I need food. My suit’s doing just fine, although I adjust a few things on it, especially the front. Once that’s all finished, my little AI, still don’t have a name for the little guy - maybe Hal? - informs me that no new messages arrived during the time I’ve been asleep. Hal’s a decent name but I don’t think humans would like it when I go out on my inevitable pilgrimage. I mean, they’re all talking about this movie and book ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ which I should get to reading eventually.

They say the book pioneered the whole Sci-Fi genre for the human race. If that’s true, it’d probably be the book that is used highly as a reference point for all stories made by humans in that category. I suppose I can avoid anything awkward with humans if I keep Hal from not being sentient and don’t tack on a ‘9000’ at the end. That’d _really_ not be good. ...Nor giving him a single red eye. But I’m still years away from my pilgrimage so I don’t have anything to worry about now. Hal’s a good name. Maez, whose parents are huge Asari fans, has an uncle named Hal if I’m not mistaken.

As I approach the door, I see something hanging from a peculiar piece of metal jutting from the wall. The story behind it, I am entirely intrigued to know. The ‘something’ is a keycard with a small note left on it. Where did Col even get the material for a note?

_Hey Ember, went out for a little bit. I should be back soon, but I got you a keycard for the place anyways. Just to make sure you’re not relying on me to get inside our little room in the Rayya. Take care. -Col_

I take the keycard and the string that was keeping it up and put it around my neck like a necklace and walk out the door of our little, most likely temporary, home. I’m not sure if we’ll be staying there forever, but knowing how bad things will be on the _Rayya_ with the massive influx of people, we might stay there. It’s by no means bad, thankfully, although there are a few things that can be wanted; mainly a place to eat.

My stomach murmurs it's agreement on the requirement of food and I descend the shoddy metal stairs, making sure to not hit my head, and down into the bar with only a few quarians sitting at some of the seats. The bartender gives me a glance as I make my way downstairs and talks to me once I’m fully downstairs.

“You’re the refugee girl, right?” He asks in a deep voice.

I nod, as that’s exactly who I am as much as I don’t want to be. A refugee. “That’s me. Got any food around here?”

“That I do.” He turns around and grabs some tubes of pulverized food for me. They’re gross and mostly bland but they suffice. Unfortunately, I’ve had them before this so I know what the expect. “Here,”

When he doesn’t ask for anything in return, I question him about it. “Don’t you want me to do some manual labour in return?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s least I can do to help someone who is suffering more than I wish upon them..”

I thank him swiftly, I _hate_ cleaning, and make off to some location away from people to eat. The _Rayya_ has a decent enough structure about it but it’s not anything special, just like the _Vryntael_ . What even happened to that ship? Hm, I’ll have to ask Col when I find him. At least this ship rumbles like the _Vryntael_ does. Not too loud, but not to quiet so that no matter where you go, there’s always a pleasant, consistent noise of the engines working. Now that I think about it, those sounds were entirely absent on the _Vryntael_ last night. And it felt eerie, like something just wasn’t right. Like the ship had just decided to hold its breath for an indistinguishable amount of time.

By the time I find somewhere nice and quiet to eat, I’m _almost_ lost. Not quite. I know the general direction but if there’s two hallways that look similar to the one in my memory, then I’ll have a problem. These ships are too packed anyways, every corridor looks vaguely similar to another, all of them filled with one or two quarians, sometimes more, along with who knows how many random objects that have been discarded by families for others to take. From where I am, there’s a good vision of the outside void with the hundreds and thousands of other ships, military and civilian alike, filling it. A distant scarlet nebulae fills what could be the horizon, if I was on a planet. It’s almost like those images of those clouds on Terra we learned about in Xeno Studies a few weeks back. It visibly ripples and shifts, even at the distance of where we are. It encroaches on the border of the system we’re in which has given it an odd effect of it being pulled towards the star, but also shifted to a direction like it was orbiting the sun. Keelah, that _is_ what’s happening. Amazing how the galaxy works sometimes.

I watch it and the dozens of ships that drift by as I eat what food I was given, although I save one of the three rations I was given for a snack if I need it later. Sometimes my metabolism is crazy, other times it’s cooled down and I don’t know which phase it’s in right now so best to just be prepared. There’s an old human term that goes with that; ‘better safe than sorry’, I believe it is. When I finish the mediocre and bland food, I start to make my way back to the bar. I wonder if Col’s back by now?

Maybe, or maybe he’s still gone doing something that I don’t know of. Probably militia activities of some sort, helping out those who lost everything much like myself. I mean, I haven’t even seen my _father_ since…

My father. I forgot about him.

Well, not entirely. I just… shoved it back as other thoughts seemed a bit more important than him. Ancestors, I’ll never let myself live down forgetting my father on such an event as this.

Somehow, I find my way back to the bar without incident. A quick minute-long investigation shows that Col is still not back and I frown at that but get onto my next idea: go to bedroll city and see if I can find my father. A simple enough idea, but not one that can be executed as simply as it can be said. With quick and nimble footsteps I make my way through the hordes of fellow quarians, through alleys and corridors I feel I can’t breath until I make it to the large opening section of the ship a little bit away from one of the docking bays. The noise had slowly but steadily increased in volume and now it was hitting me like a bombardment. Hundreds of voices carry through the air and my suit does the best it can to translate it into something useful, Ancestors bless it.

There’s no way I can just find my father in the mass of people present so I do the next best thing; ask anyone if they’ve seen him. The first person I ask is a green-and-black suited quarian man. “Excuse me, have you spoken to Ralo’Xaelas vas Vryntael recently?”

The quarian stops and thinks on the question for several seconds before shaking his head slowly. “No, can’t say that I have. Are you looking for him?”

“That I am. Thanks for at least wracking your memory to remember if you saw him for me.” I say. Courtesy is always prefered to being unpolite. And I’d rather not spend my time making enemies on a ship I have no idea how long I’ll be staying on.

The next quarian I ask knows as much as the first one does, but once again I thank them for at least trying their best to help. I know it’s close to a lost cause though, since there’s hundreds of quarians confined into this small area and I can’t expect many of them to know where my father is. But nevertheless, I ask as many people as I can on the whereabouts of my father. Seems he’s nedas, though, and I make my way out of the dense bedroll city and make it to the sidelines. Keelah, so much interaction with other people isn’t good for me like this. I’m not built for it.

Fine. If I can’t find my father, I’ll at least try to find Col. He should be around here somewhere or maybe he’s already back to our single room that we can call our temporary home. At least, I hope it’s temporary. The sooner we get somewhere bigger, the better. And _that_ is assuming Col is going to continue to be my guardian long enough to see us getting a new residence. Maybe he’s going to give up on me as soon as he realises he has to take care of me for more than a night. Col also most likely knows the answers to where my father is.

There’s two guards at the hallway that turns a sharp ninety-degree angle into the docking bay Col, myself and every other refugee from the _Vryntael_ that is residing on a bedroll in the middle of the floor of a big room. Not very luxurious, even by our standards. I walk to the closest guard, a man wearing a bright green and black suit, making the colour I see absolutely horrid. I grimace as I look at the man’s suit but don’t say anything as that would just be unwise of me.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He asks me as I get close enough, clearly knowing that I was going to ask a question.

I nod swiftly and speak as best I can. My throat is already faintly stinging from trying to speak over the crowds of the people deeper in the room. “Have you spoken to Col’Hedal of the _Vryntael_ recently?”

The guard ponders the question for a few seconds, pressing his left hand into his chin a bit. The bright ball of light from his voice regulator flickers haphazardly as he does. I hope that doesn’t happen with mine. Means it needs to be repaired and that’s never fun as I have to use a spare and seeing the world a different colour from the one you’ve known your entire life is a really odd experience that I would rather live without. “Yes, actually,” finally some good news, “he said he was heading back to the bar no more than twenty minutes ago.”

“Great. Thank you,” I say as I quickly make my way off and away from such a hub of activity and people. As I make my way back to the bar, several people bump into me even though I tried to avoid them. They give me a passing glance but nothing more.

Col is right. There’s no need to be around so many people, and with the evacuation of the _Vryntael_ population has become even more of a problem. But it’s not just the _Rayya_ which has been overloaded. Plenty of other ships have failed on their way to a new system, firmly declaring that it was their time to go. I just never thought it would happen to the _Vryntael_. While other ships were just ships, mine seemed like an impenetrable fortress that would never fall apart no matter how old it was or how many bits and pieces were replaced.

And then there’s a whole bunch of other ships that took the rest of the _Vryntael_ ’s population. They’re probably as bloated as this ship is right about now.

The way back to the bar is uneventful and hardly anyone looks my way as I walk through the open doorway and up the crude and standard sheets of metal that function as stairs. Only when I walk through the doors to my little single-roomed sleeping location, after using my keycard of course, do things get interesting. Col is there sitting on his bed, the one closest to the door, looking down at his Omni-tool. As the door slides open with a grating hiss and I wince as it opens. How can we just let the doors get so bad? But if I was to ask that question it raises another one. Why couldn’t they just repair the hole in the floor instead of make a staircase from it? Perhaps the door that is visible at the end of the hallway is permanently jammed or its circuits are completely fried? I suppose I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Col looks up at me as I walk in and I watch as the glowing holographic Omni-tool fade and evaporate in front of my eyes. “Welcome back, Ember. Good to see you,” he says with an odd undertone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was sadness.

“Good to see you as well,” I reply with a tone that said I was neither happy nor sad, but I know some relief leaked into the words I spoke. “Have you seen my father around?”

Col hesitates for a moment and then shakes his head. “Ember,” there’s a definitive underlining of despair in his voice now, “there’s something I need to tell you about the _Vryntael_ and your father.”

I sit down on my bed before giving him a gesture to continue on with what he was waiting for permission to say. Col clasps his hands together and I can tell that this isn’t really going to be something that I want to hear. But I steel myself and hope that it isn’t anything too bad. I can endure it, I hope.

“So,” begins Col, “after I left I was assigned to go back to the Vryntael to get more people, nothing unusual about that, but as we’re approaching the ship, the other militia and I hear some odd noises. Like the sounds of steel snapping and explosions. Because of that, we hurry our pace to the ship but it’s then that we see an explosion ripple through the ship, bursting out the side of it, completely obliterating the farthest docking bay.” Col takes in a few deep breaths to steady himself and his voice before continuing. “A few seconds later, a second explosion and just like that, half the ship is charred and broken off and drifting off in a thousand different directions.”

“Which means...” If he’s implying what I think he is… Oh, Ancestors I already am starting to feel tears form.

“Which means your father didn’t make it. I’m sorry.” Col repeats and finishes what I attempted to so quietly a pin drop could mask his voice. I almost don’t hear him.

There’s silence between us for several seconds as I process the information I was just given. My father, gone. And I didn’t even hug him before he died. I think that knowledge makes his demise so much worse, knowing that I didn’t even express any of my love towards him before he passed on. And what a way to go. The _Vryntael,_ the only home I ever knew, destroyed in a ball of fire.

When the tears start, there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I cry, and not the crying that leaves you with reddened eyes and less water in your system, the one that makes your voice go hoarse, nose full of snot and your chest aching. Col does his best to comfort me, Ancestors bless him, but it doesn’t do as much good as father would have. Was this how I was when mother died? No, I don’t think I had the heartache that I’m suffering now. I didn’t understand the concept of death and by the time I did, mother was long gone and life was something normal. Life without her was the norm, and I guess now a life without my home and family is also going to be the norm some day. Death just seemed… different. Like a nap you couldn’t wake up from. Maybe that’s all it is. It certainly didn’t have the same emotional impact that it does now with the passing of my father.

By the time I’m settled down enough to be coherent and not crying all over my bed, I’m famished and by the way Col looks, he is too. When he stands up, I have a feeling I know what he’s doing, but he has an entire private life that I don’t know. Plus, he hasn’t even agreed to be my full time guardian so there’s little chance he’ll tell me.

“Going to get some food for us,” he says in a calm and collected voice, but oddly hushed as if he was afraid I’d turn into a thresher maw if he said something too loud. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes, maybe even sooner.”

I nod into my pillows and leave it at that. It’s all I can muster the strength to do. My arms don’t want to move, nor my legs. Actually, every bit of me doesn’t want to move and just lay here facedown in a mass of blanket and pillows for as long as it takes to overcome the pain I’m feeling. That would probably be far too long though. By the time I get up and feel ready to face the world once more, I’d probably have starved to death. But I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be honouring my father nor the rest of my ancestors.

And I know none of them would appreciate me dying prematurely.

Morosely, I shift in my sheets until I can at least breath fully. Col comes back a few moments later with some food that we eat within a matter of minutes. I nearly start crying once more but I fight back the tears as fiercely as I can. Needless to say, not very fiercely. Words aren’t exchanged between us some time after we finish eating and we both just sit in silence until I finally ask a question that I’ve been wanting to know the answer to for a while now.

“What will become of us?”

“What do you mean?” Col says as he shifts to look at me better. I squirm uncomfortably; hate being in the spotlight. At least when I was crying it wasn’t even close to conscious thought.

I struggle for words and choke out a few, weakly, before restarting and faring much better. “What about you and me? Since my father is...” I feel my heart sink a bit again but push on through, “gone, I don’t have a parent and I was wondering how long you’d, er, be my guardian for.”

Col thinks on the question for an unbearable amount of time. Each second feels like a century as nothing except for us move in the little room. Time seems non-existent, or infinite in the room as he ponders the question. I sit nervously waiting for an answer. I’m too anxious to work a little bit more on Hal and that’s the only thing I can do to pass the time, aside from seeing how long I can sleep without waking.

After what seems a millenia, Col speaks once more. “I will be your guardian until you go on your pilgrimage. After that, it is only custom for you to go onto another ship and live your life there.”

I sit for a few moments unable to do anything except recognize how overjoyed I am to hear that someone will take care of me. Despite Col being a fantastic person, even before he said what he did a few moments ago, I still had doubt that he would be willing to take me on as we as people aren’t always the easiest to look after. It certainly doesn’t just come in a manual you can study for a night and know how to do flawlessly.

Half the time, I think my parents didn’t know what they were doing and were just experiencing things as it happened rather than just reading about it. Knowledge like that can’t be recorded and be perfect for any child, as all of them are different.

With only a fleeting moment of thought, I fling myself into Col’s arms and embrace him tightly. He’s done so much for me already, I don’t think I can ever thank him enough. He returns the action and I’m grinning behind my helmet. I don’t let go for a while, as I want to remain in this state of joy for as long as I can before the thoughts of what had just happened sink in. And they want to make their way back into the forefront of my brain oh so much. Col doesn’t force me off him, or even urge me away for as long as I’m embracing him.

I can’t help myself but melt a little bit at the feeling of his hardened muscle and lean figure. Despite him being my guardian, he isn’t family. Yet, at least. I know that with time, I will consider him as such. I think the Ancestors would welcome him to the family. Father would certainly approve of him, and mother? Most likely. From how fondly father talked about her, she would probably accept Col as a family member.

The bright chime of Col’s Omni-tool gives me incentive to get off him and back onto my own bed as he checks his messages. I do my best to treasure the memory and make sure it isn’t tainted by the sadness from which the memory was birthed from. So far, I’m doing pretty good. I begin working away on Hal, adding in a few extra lines of code that allow him to do a little more complex algebra and think I’ll start working on circle geometry and some other more difficult maths. I mean, I’m really intelligent and all, but I like having something to do the work quicker for me. I still understand how everything works, as I have to program it and I make sure I have enough left that I don’t forget the process but I want to save time. Making Hal is my way of doing so.

“Have to go speak with the commander of the militia here on the _Rayya_. I’ll be back soon, Ember.” Col says with a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. I know it’s towards having to do something else than fall asleep, though.

“Okay,” I say as cheerfully as I can, “I’ll be here when you get back.” In which state, be it sleep or awake, I do not know, however.

The well rusted door opens again and cries it's agonizing screech of over-usage as Col waits for the door to open. He steps outside a moment later, looks back over his shoulder for a half-second and walks off around the corner and to wherever he’s supposed to be. My eyes drift away from the door, now closing and once again letting off a horrid sound, and back to my Omni-tool and Hal. He’s doing fine, all things considered. Could use a little bit of an upgrade in the emotional cortex of his programming but I don’t want him to go all AI on me. No repeat of the Geth, thank you very much.

Instead, I continue to work on the circle geometry and better algebra. Fortunately, the language that I use for programming the little guy is simple enough to learn but versatile enough to make everything from games to AI that can solve even the most complex of problems you give it. I’m not trying to go _that_ far with my programming, I doubt I even could if I wanted to, but being able to do all the forms of math I have learned to is just fine with me. I don’t expect anything more than that for him. Adding in everything I’ve learned from science, particularly space and it’s fascinating infinity, is something I’ll have to tackle at a later time. How much later, I cannot say. Shouldn’t be too long, but who knows what else I’ll learn here on the _Rayya_.

Xeno Studies better be good or there’s going to be some serious reforms issued by me, whether the teacher likes it or not.

It doesn’t take too long after Col’s gone before the cold sadness that I was experiencing before sets in. I wish it hadn’t, but I knew it was inevitable. There was no way around it, because how can you just get over the death of a parent? My father _died_. That’s not something you can just say ‘Well damn, I guess that’s that’ and walk off and live the rest of your life. No, it takes time to heal wounds and bandages have always been known to work, so I’m extremely thankful I have Col with me. He can be my bandage, but time is my ultimate healer and I just have to sit this one out. I just hope it isn’t going to be one of those deep wounds that scars me forever like it seems to do with those vid series I used to watch.

My favourite one was one where it was set in the time of a big war, larger than any we’ve really experienced, in an alternate universe of sorts. It’s gritty and realistic and most of all, not afraid to show what war really does to people. All my friends found it a bit too morbid and depressing for their tastes so I usually just watched it alone. Unfortunately the final season came out a little bit ago so I couldn’t watch anything more of that without experiencing the entire story once again. I’ll have to program Hal to be able to play videos for me on my Omni-tool sometime in the future.

I also like watching some more lengthy vids that can stretch on for hours, standard time, but I prefer series because you always get more story in them. They have more time to tell the tale they want to, unlike the single vid tales. Sometimes it’s best to keep it short, though.

Hm. Sitting here moping is making me think. What would alcohol do for me? Probably do what it did to father when he was getting over mother’s death: be desensitized for a little bit and then even sadder than before he started drinking. That doesn’t sound like a fun way to go about things. Alcohol probably doesn’t do anything good for me either. I’ve seen my father stumble about when he’s drunk, bumping into things like he can’t fully control his body. Alcohol certainly wouldn’t do anything for me, that was good at least. I don’t even know _where_ I would get some in the first place. The bar is right below me, but the barkeep knows I’m underage, not someone who can just walk in there and look like an adult. My body wishes it could disagree and it’s getting pretty close, but I have a little bit in the means of height and a bit more width before I fully look like an adult. I assume the reason behind my larger than average size has to do with me being extremely unmoving most of the time, so I don’t burn nearly as much energy.

Not that there’s really much to do in the first place. I can walk around but seen one hallway, seen them all, in essence. Space is good to look at and hardly gets tiring, but the multitude of ships blocking what I want to look at doesn’t make it much more interesting. You either have a conversation with someone or use some piece of old technology the homeless on the Citadel probably have a better version of.

But that’s just how life is on the Migrant Fleet. It’s all I know and for the next few years to come, life will remain that way. What I’m really not ready for is my pilgrimage.

And I fear I won’t be when the time arrives, either.


	3. Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, during the writing of this chapter I did a little research and found out that Shepard is actually five years older than Tali is… so, wanting to stick somewhat to canon, I had to change how old Ember is: she’s seventeen now, not fourteen like she originally was. Please forgive inconsistencies within this chapter and previous ones regarding this fact.
> 
> Also used some Khelish language as I will tend to do throughout the story: Nedas and Tasi, which mean ‘nowhere’ and ‘no one’ respectively. Hope you enjoy this chapter and I’ll see you over at the next one, hopefully, whenever it comes out.

Days fold into weeks as life turns into something of normality on the Rayya. Bedroll city is still present, but smaller than it was before. Not by much, though, as the captain is still finding room for everyone. I’ve even heard that a few have to stay down in the utility decks where people shouldn’t live. My sympathies go out to them if the rumours are true. I’m still sorely missing my father, but the pain has lessened over the weeks that I’ve been here on the Rayya. But every time I walk down an unfamiliar corridor, or hear any news of bedroll city, or even just spend time with Col, I am painfully reminded of what I lost less than a month ago.

It’s a tender wound that I need to tread lightly on or else I might rip it back open and cause the sadness to flow through me once more. I only overcame my depression a week ago, where nothing interested me and I felt just… disconnected with the world. Like I wasn’t actually living in my body, even. Just a disembodied conscious with a body keeping it trapped in a mortal existence. An odd experience, and one that I would never like to relive again.

Xeno Studies is more or less the same, but with a different teacher and a bit more information required for me to know. That’s nice. Everything else is better and a bit more extensive too, in terms of education. I don’t know anyone in the class and I haven’t made many contacts with them. I’m not sure if I treat them like aliens or if they treat me as an alien. I’ve heard them talk about me behind my back, though, asking one another if I’m a Vryntael refugee. Of course, they can only assume, but most of them know that I’m a refugee by now. Those who don’t simply can’t be bothered to care.

I walk out of the education centre and with light steps, I make my way back to my home. Or at least, I try to. Me, being who I am, doesn’t notice someone in front of me going a different path. I bump into them accidentally. The person, who looks much younger than me - I can only assume from the way her body shape is, was carrying a bunch of datapads which are now on the floor. “Keelah, I’m sorry about that! Wasn’t watching where I was going!”

Her voice is cute, certainly. Cuter than I’ve heard before by many others. Her clothes are a mix of deep, slightly faded lavender and black rubber that make up her suit. She’s not too significant, overall. Just another quarian. “It’s fine, and it was more my fault. Here, let me help you.”

I pick up about half the datapads while she picks up the other. When we’re both back on our feet, I hand her the sheets of technology and she grabs them gingerly, inspecting each one for cracks and dents. “Thanks for your help,” she pauses for several seconds before extending her free hand. “Tali’Zorah.”

“Ember’Xaelas,” I answer and point a finger at the human gesture. “Is that something you do with everyone?”

Her hand falls limp after about a second and she shrinks down a little. “Y-yes, it is. Just preparing for my pilgrimage, you know?”

I understand that completely. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be ready for my own pilgrimage. I might, or maybe I won’t but that’s just something I’ll have to live with like everyone else who lives the life of a quarian here on the Fleet. And I’ll do my captain proud, I just know it. I’ll get something good for them! Imagine if I was able to bring back my own ship for the Fleet! Now that would be a gift the entire Admiralty Board would appreciate. But such dreams are silly to think of. I would never be able to buy a ship and add it to the Fleet, not like the others who have done it and become somehow successful in their lives outside the Flotilla.

I am but a refugee living aboard another ship that is foreign but oh so familiar to me, with a small non-sentient AI inside my Omni-tool and a militia as a guardian because my parents died. There’s no way I’m anything special. There’s got to be plenty of other people much similar to me and going to do so much more than I am. What could I possibly offer the Fleet in exchange for living aboard one of the ships? Would I even be able to get something that would be worthy of acceptance?

Most likely, but it sure doesn’t feel like I can.

“Too much work, if you ask me. I’ll figure it out as I go on my pilgrimage. I’m sure the extranet has most of what I need to help me out.”

Tali bobs her head from side to side. “I suppose, but I’d r-rather have the years of experience with me.”

“I can respect that,” I say idly. Hm, I should probably try and get this person… Tali, to be my friend. That would be wise, I say. Can’t go wrong with friends, and I have to admit that it’s been lonely the few weeks I’ve been here on the Rayya. Odd thing to say from a person who is almost entirely solitary but it’s the truth. I like doing most things alone, but I don’t like being lonely. “So...” I start slowly, “how about we go to a place I know well? It’s not far from school and it has a nice view.”

Tali thinks on it for a few moments, opens her Omni-tool, taps in a message quickly and then looks to me and nods. “A-alright, lead the way.”

And that’s exactly what I do, once Tali’s dropped off her collection of datapads so she isn’t overburdened. We walk through hallways and corridors in relative silence, shifting our way through the crowds of other, older and taller people who have completed their pilgrimage. I’m tempted to just ask each one ‘how?’. Tali follows behind me like she’s shy of both me and the rest of the world, and maybe that’s actually who she is. Not a charismatic person, but one who fumbles around with her sentences. I noticed she stuttered a bit when I spoke to her back over at the education centre. Ah, but enough speculation. If I want to know, I can always just ask.

We make it back to my own favourite spot on the ship, even the room Col and I live in isn’t as good as where I’ve taken Tali to. The window to view a thousand ships. Hal actually did the math, and approximately one thousand and forty-six ships are visible through the window at all times, regardless of almost anything. Right now, in the distance, a small pulsar shoots two white beams of pure energy and matter off into opposite directions. The star itself is also mostly white, with a tint of light blue. Four barren and uninhabitable planets orbit the star, one mostly ice, one molten, one nothing more than a ball of iron and rock with an extremely visible ring wrapping around it snuggly, and one gas giant which sported over seven satellites and a slightly visible ring around it, not in any particular order. A couple thousand ships of the Migrant Fleet only cover up the distant stars and particularly bright planets, leaving everything of interest in the system able to be seen.

The molten planet is covered in red, blanketed in black and dark grey clouds that are more similar to coal than anything else and bright gold magma that flows as freely as water would on Earth or Terra as some humans prefer to call it. Only they know why they want to use a language that they consider dead but still use for almost every single scientific discovery and subject they know of, and just call the planets their name in that different language. The ice planet is covered in ravines and cracks that look like they’re splitting the planet in half, with a few white and light grey clouds that drift over the surface of the planet. Mountains also dot the planet like small spikes that reach for breaking through the atmosphere. Some glitter and shine when under a light, likely a result of having some kind of crystal or liquid on them, and others are as simple and plain as a mountain can be.

The gas giant and barren planet are something else entirely. The gas giant is a wondrous ball of blue and green, mixed together to form some ungodly amalgamation of colours. White streaks slash through it like a Varren’s claws and the faint ring shows only at a certain part of the planet at the right angle, disappearing when looked at from somewhere else, even if that ‘somewhere’ is the other side of the window. The satellites of the gasball are all relatively simple balls of either bright green gas that I’m sure is toxic, deep red or a faded and completely dull brown. None of them look particularly interesting, except for the toxic moon. The barren wasteland of a planet is pockmarked with asteroid and comet impacts which probably did a lot to help out the very visible ring that the planet sports. It has short mountains and a few light canyons, along with two caps of ice at the top and bottom of the planet.

“Keelah...” Tali says as she touches the large glass window. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” I respond quickly. “This is where I come to… uh,” Well then. I just was about to say that this was where I came to cry when I was getting over my father’s death. Keelah, the tears are starting to come back even now. I do my best to shove those thoughts away, at least until I’m alone. Then I can take all the time I need to cry and sob and sniffle over the death of my last known family member. “This is where I come to be alone.” Technically not wrong, on my part.

“I can see how you’d spend time here, just staring out through the window, watching time pass by and the worlds and systems and move,” Tali says in a light, breathless voice. “It’s breathtaking.”

‘Enrapturing’ would be the word I used if I could use complex words in conversation. Unfortunately, my vocabulary takes a dip every time I speak to someone. I use more simple words than what I normally can think of, sometimes. Other times I use an enhanced dialect that involves many different words that all mean roughly the same thing. Kind of like English, in that regards. Of course, Khelish is much different to English in many ways, but like every language, there are similarities.

“It is. Sometimes I wish the ships were gone from the image and other times I like them there. All depends on what is in view.” I say as I come to stand next to Tali, who has been leaning against the window for about a minute now. “Some weeks ago, there was a nebula there.”

“And longer than that?” Tali asks. She just had to, didn’t she?

“Well, I wasn’t exactly here before then, so I can’t tell you,” I say uncomfortably. I feel my eyes water. It seems there’s no avoiding this, I just have to make sure my voice doesn’t change. I have to remain strong. I am not weak.

It was when I was called weak for crying, that I forbade myself from sobbing in public. They won’t help, only ridicule me for losing my father. If they knew, they wouldn’t be laughing. And if they did, they didn’t deserve the life they were given. What bosh’tets. We are supposed to be caring about one another since we are all we have left. I can do it in the safety of my own home and here where I stand, as almost tasi shows up here. Not now though, as Tali is interfering with that.

Tali looks at me suddenly, as if something just clicked. “Are… are you a refugee?”

I hesitate and then nod slowly. No point in lying. She’s not going to ridicule me for being a refugee. No one does that, not even the cold-hearted amongst us. “I am.”

“Oh Keelah,” Tali holds her hands up to her suit’s voice regulator. “I’m so sorry!”

“Nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault.” I say, unable to keep the sadness from my voice despite my efforts. Just, no matter what, I will not cry.

“Still. It must be awful losing your ship like that. The… Vryntael, right?” Tali asks in a cautious but warm voice. The sign that she genuinely cares.

I nod a few times, lazily and sadly. The two actions are pretty synonymous. And I just got over the death of my parents and my home this morning. Seriously, I cried alone for about half an hour before leaving off to the education centre roughly three hours ago. With the education centre, you can show up any time you want and do the work that you want, some of it being required. There is no time limit on checking in and you don’t even have to show up but it’s better that you do. The place is open even when teachers aren’t there so you can go in and do work even in the small hours of the day. You can find worksheets and datapads that have everything you need on them to learn what you want and need. Right now, I’m in the midst of learning better programming to upgrade Hal even further and doing lots of math and science.

English and socials are fine but not really required in Quarian life. But Xeno Studies? Everyone needs to invest their time in that, as we all have to go on pilgrimage and brave the galaxy without our ancestor’s guidance. Well, not that I know of. I mean, maybe I will have my ancestor’s help when I go on my pilgrimage but I don’t know. I have my doubts. We also don’t have our parent’s guidance, nor guardians. I think they give parting advice and such to you but other than that, you’re on your own to brave the weird, confusing, complex and sometimes downright scary, galaxy.

Tali lays a hand on my shoulder and I brighten up a bit. Not much, hardly noticeable, but still something. “Thank you, Tali,” I say with a slightly hoarse voice. Better I say something though, rather than remain quiet.

She nods softly. “It’s alright. It must have been a terrible experience.”

“It… actually wasn’t all that bad. We all had to leave our homes and go to different docking bays and wait to be loaded off the ship and into some large shuttle to be taken off to a different ship. The reactor core was going haywire or something, and the ship was basically saying that this was it’s final moments. We only got a couple thousand people off the ship before it destroyed itself. But it was relatively a fine experience. Of course, the loss of my home and father wasn’t good.”

“You lost your father?” Tali asks. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ember. Mine treats me more as just another member of the ship than an actual daughter.” She pouts a little as she explains her father and his way of treating his daughter.

He must be important if he acts like that. Although, I’m not sure that he has to be professional even after hours. “Important person, I’m guessing?”

Tali nods again, this time more hastily and less comfortingly. We’ve mostly moved on from the conversation about me and my sad experience, but I know we’ll return to it. We’re just going on the outskirts of that conversation and soon we will return to it. It’s only inevitable. “He’s part of the Admiralty Board.”

I raise my eyebrows. That’s a very important role indeed. My father was nothing more than a programmer, working on making prototype VIs that could help out. We’ve learned a lot from our past mistakes and have only decided to give them the tiniest of intelligences, only good enough to do rudimentary calculations and understand instructions. We have our own laws for such a thing: a VI must never have the ability to rationalize, a VI must never be able to self-upgrade - or remove code from their system unless specifically programmed to do so -, a VI must never be intelligent enough to be considered an AI, a VI must never be able to think for itself, and so on and so forth. There’s too many laws to say; so much so that if I wrote them all down, the reader would most likely be asleep. We also have a few other less important laws - some of which came from a fairly recent human author, Isaac Asimov, as they are actually pretty good laws, aside from their flaws if used alone - that we _sometimes_ use but not consistently. My father followed by the ones he felt were needed for what he was making. He was the programmer of the house and I learned what I do now through him. Without him and his job, I don’t really know where I’d be. Without Hal most likely and that doesn’t seem like a good life, in my opinion.

He’s also been getting more advanced, entirely with my help of course - Hal that is, not my father. He can do most of the things I can, except for any of the sentient traits like capable thought, being able to question itself and other things, experience emotions and so on. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if that ever happened. Probably panic a ton, for starters. I would have created another Geth, mostly, and all on my own. It’s connected to my Omni-tool and doesn’t have a physical way of killing me but if it so desired, it could easily disable functions of my suit that I have linked to my Omni-tool.

I don’t even want to think of that right now.

“Well, that’s certainly an important role that your father has,” I say slowly. “I mean, my father was only a simple programmer. And yours is on the Admiralty Board.”

Tali nods. “Y-yeah. Don’t really like it, though. He treats everything he encounters like just another obligation that he has to do. Even spending time with me, it’s like it’s just something he has to do. And everyone expects great things from me on my pilgrimage. Being the daughter of one of the most powerful and influential members of the fleet, it’s like everyone expects even more than what they did for my father on his pilgrimage.”

I can also understand that and how it would be a problem. Status always brings expectation. If it didn’t, it was no status that could ever be considered important. Hell, even standard citizens have some expectation about them and their status is far down on the chain; in other societies at least. Quarians are different. We have standard citizens, militia, full-time soldiers, ship captains and the Admiralty Board. Okay, I might be missing a few but the point is made; there’s not a lot of different statuses amongst us. Not like Turians, or Salarians, Asari or, the king of them all, Humans. They’re notorious for their huge amount of statuses and titles and roles. I know of presidents and kings and queens and emperors, dukes and the like but not much more than that. There’s so many more than just that though, which I find ridiculous. Why do you need so many different titles that are almost similar?

Then again, no one ever said that Terra is a politically unified planet…

“I’m sure you’ll find something worthy enough to bring back to the fleet. Not sure if I will get something good, though.” I say. My pilgrimage is damn close and I really don’t feel ready. At least Tali has more years than I do to prepare for her pilgrimage. Speaking of which… “How old are you?” I ask. I know my age just fine: seventeen, and I know Tali’s younger than I am, but just how much younger?

“I’m only twelve cycles.” She says after a few seconds of hesitation. I stop everything that I’m doing, which isn’t much. I knew that she was younger than me but Keelah, five cycles? What the hell does she have to worry about right now? She has six years, cycles or revolutions - whichever you want to call them, I usually go with a combination of all three - to go before she has to go on her pilgrimage! How long do I have? About one or perhaps two if I really, really don’t feel ready for the task.

“That’s… younger than I was expecting.” I say. Never would have thought. She’s taller and a bit thicker than most quarians her age, but looks are often deceiving or so the old human quote goes. “You really have nothing to worry about kid, at least not for another six revolutions. Me on the other hand...”

“How old are you?” Tali asks in turn. I wouldn’t expect anything less of her.

“Seventeen cycles. Only have a year or so before my pilgrimage starts.” I say to the shorter and seemingly infinitely younger quarian. Still surprised she’s got twelve years of life experience behind her.

“Are you ready for it?” The inquisitive girl asks. I could still be her friend, though. She seems nice enough and age doesn’t matter to me; personality does.

I shake my head slowly. “Sure don’t feel like I’m ready, Tali. The galaxy is a big and dangerous place and I’m not sure if I’ll survive as best as I have so far all on my own.”

“Well,” starts Tali, “if it’s any solace, I think you’ll do just fine out there.”

I wish I could tell myself the exact same thing and believe it. Her words mean more than mine, but not enough to convince me. How can I be ready though? I do nothing besides stay alone, program a little VI which tasi except Col knows about and do only the most essential of tasks. How can that prepare you for experiencing life in a galaxy filled with billions upon billions of individuals? Really, I don’t think that it can.

“Thank you,” I say as I turn my attention back to the window that has the same image that it has maintained for several days now. I still visit it, just not as often as I used to when I was really getting over the death of my father. Reminds me a bit too much of how much I actually just sat here looking out at the black void filled with light from infinitely distant stars and the other ships of the migrant fleet, thinking of my father and how life just isn’t and can never be the same due to his absence. At least I have that picture I took as quickly as I could before having to leave. I can know it’s him because he’s the most prominent figure in the photograph.

Tali nods, opens up her Omni-tool and looks at the time. “Oh, Ship Dynamics is starting soon. I better not miss that! Hey, can I add your name onto my messenger so we can contact one another still? I’d like to continue our conversations if possible!”

“Of course you can.” I’d be foolish to decline. I let her add my name into her directory before she gives me a small bow, which I return, and leaves off in a hurry for her class of Ship Dynamics. I saw that class and decided it wasn’t for me. The workings of ships? Fine and all, but overly boring. Optimizing the efficiency of engines by plugging in code when you could make a VI to do that for you? Also boring and that in itself is inefficient, but I suppose it all depends. You never really know how you have to optimize the engines, as an example, you just know that they’re not running at maximum capacity and you want them to do so.

I’ll just still to my calculous, matrix mathematics, biology, xeno studies, advanced programming and philosophy, thank you very much. I especially like Advanced Programming and Philosophy. The latter is my way to question the universe and how everything functions within it and just what would happen if we did such things. How would life be without the Geth? Okay, not really a philosophical question: if you step into a teleporter and it zaps you from one location to another, do you die and someone else with all the memories and personality and appearance of you is born and lives until they use a teleporter and the same things all happen again?

Now that is a question worthy of speculation.

Advanced Programming is so I can make Hal as good as he can be under my limited expertise, among other things that I don’t know yet. I’ll probably end up being one of the people who immortalizes those who have passed into VIs to interact with. There’s a high chance of that. I also have to see if I can convince my future captain if I can obtain some mining drones and program them to do some really good mineral extraction because everyone in the Fleet knows that we need the extra minerals.

The two maths are just because I’m good at them and my father always said I should do them so here I am, continuing to work on math because my now-dead father had said that I should because it would be worth it in the end. I wish to honour his memory more than just getting a simple VI to speak to me. That’s not him. I don’t care about tradition; that is not and never will be my father. He will never say what he did, sound like him, look like him nor treat me the way he used to. He’s gone and a VI to replace him is like taking his corpse and using it for a puppet show made by people who know nothing about the man. It’s an insult to me, my mother, him and anyone who wants to know him as a person. Do I believe in the Ancestor stuff imbedded in our religion? Yes, without a doubt. Do I like the fact that we only have a carbon fibre copy of them to spend time with, without emotion and without soul? No, not at all.

But really, what’s the alternative? Make them fully sentient like the Geth? How would that go over, trying to explain to them that they’re in fact only a copy of someone who had once lived? ‘Hey, we know you’ve been a serious part of our lives for several years now but we have something to tell you… you are not a person at all, simply a copy of someone who died a month before you were made.’

Somehow, just _somehow_ I don’t see that going well with literally any of our people. If that happened to me, I would be so damn pissed off. Then I would question my entire existence, have a crisis of some sort and do… something. Nothing good, that much I can assure.

Just thinking about it makes me realize everything wrong with the practice, so VIs it is. But couldn’t we just do something else? It seems like a disrespect to the person since they’re nothing more than a soulless automaton immortalized for uninterested younglings who couldn’t give a damn who you were. I’ll admit I was the lame kid of my friends, well, more so than the others were, and was the one who actually went to see the VIs so I know just how empty they are as individuals. Actually, they can’t be called ‘individuals’, because that means they’re separate from one another and different. They’re all the same in the end. They have a personality that is poorly uploaded to the program and then left to gather dust in a room half the people on the ship don’t even know _exists_ . I had to talk to the second hand of the bloody _Captain_ to find where the room actually was! No exaggeration!

It’s ridiculous and even more of an insult than usual. Might as well just upload them all into a single computer with a different little folder for each person, showing they’re a special snowflake, for the amount of good the VIs are. Why couldn’t we just put them all into a single CPU and then set up several points where you can access one VI and chose who you want to speak to? That’d make everything so much easier!

Keelah, I should proposition the Admiralty Board with this shit!

They’d at least consider my proposal. Heh, _that_ could be my contribution towards the Flotilla. Can that just count and then I can just not go on my pilgrimage? Bah, no that wouldn’t work. That goes against every quarian tradition that I can think of, and I know roughly ninety percent of them. I’d name them but I think that would be far too long and monotonous a task for even me. I’d get bored and fall asleep halfway through, for sure.

Have you guessed that I don’t want to do my pilgrimage yet?

I might do well or I might do terribly. Maybe I’ll do great, or maybe only average. Maybe I’ll like the rest of the galaxy so much I don’t want to return to the Fleet. Or… maybe I’ll find myself on the wrong side of a rifle and find myself unable to return to the Fleet. Keelah, I hope it doesn’t come to that.

With a massive sigh after Tali’s gone, I perch myself on one of the many boxes near the window that is my gateway to the universe and watch it for the next couple of hours. I eventually lose myself in my thoughts of questioning my existence and the universe around me: why are the laws of physics in place? Is it because we are only living in a simulation of a perceivable universe, with the laws coded in as ways to limit our fun of the universe we unwillingly live and die in? Perhaps. Maybe that’s just how it is, the universe’s coding is made simply because that’s how it works. No simulation, no overlords from the ‘true’ reality, just the reality we live in and with that comes rules to keep us in line. That and a bunch of other questions for me and only me to answer, and perhaps bounce of a few friends of mine. None of them are as into questions like that as I am though.

At some point, I blink my eyes and realize I am actually not comfortable at all. My backside hurts, my butt is sore and my legs are entirely asleep. I check the time and rub my visor to see if I’m seeing what I’m supposed to: it’s apparently four after midnight so I best be going back home.

The walk back home is quiet and relaxing, although I wince and groan with every step because my dumb body decided it wanted to do it’s best ‘I’ve been dead for five hundred years’ impersonation. I sigh, this is silly. All I want to do now is be back in my bed and asleep so that I can stare out the window more and question my existence instead of doing more important things like prepare for my pilgrimage. Is that so much to ask for? Apparently.

Col’s asleep when I get back home and I do my best to make it around to my bed without waking him up but the man has the attentiveness, even when asleep, of a cat, or some other extremely alert animal. A hawk, perhaps? Whatever that is. “Hey Ember, where’ve you been?”

“The window, as usual, Col. I’ll do my best not to disturb you. Got that guard duty tomorrow?” I ask. It’s what he normally has.

“No,” Col answers in a deep and hoarse voice. “I’m actually teaching a group of quarians looking to be soldiers. They’re all as green as Thessia’s grass so I don’t think I’ll have a lot of fun but I was like them once and if my instructor could handle me, I’m sure I can handle them.” He chuckles softly at his own self deprecation of his old behaviour.

I laugh softly with him and whisper a good night to him before settling into my bed. As soon as I’m snug and ready to fall asleep, Hal decides it’s a wonderful idea to send me an update. “Miss, I have done the math and your pilgrimage will start in approximately four hundred and seventy-six Terran rotations, or about one-point-three Terran years. I suggest doing research on the following subjects: social interactions, economics, spacetime travel, bargaining, weaponry - shipboard and handheld, xeno traditions and current galactic politics for optimal success.” With that, Hal flicks off and leaves me be for the rest of the night. Thanks Hal.

That’s one of the other things I programmed him to do. He finds out as much as he can by searching the extranet on topics that have proven to be the most important for my pilgrimage. It was a pain to code but worth it I say.

I turn over onto my side and find I’m even more comfortable and close my eyes, letting the wondrous, blissful second of sleep I feel before I wake up.

So far, life is looking pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much ramble? Never enough ramble.


	4. 'Isolation'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter but meh. This chapter didn't need to be 4k+ words in length. Next one should be out in a few days, but I am infamous for my inability to stay on a functional schedule so who knows?

Movies: you always have to like at least _one_ of them, considering there’s more movies than people on Terra right about now, made from the human race alone! Of course, those aren’t the movies Tali and I are watching. We’re going to enjoy some horror movie or another because I’m in the mood for something to keep me up at night. Gives me an excuse to work on Hal, at any rate.

While I’m actually pretty excited to see the movie, since it’s one of the newer releases by some company or another, Tali is much less so. She’s all for those sappy love stories though. Especially the ones where the main characters sing… Bleh. I don’t like them at all. Not that there’s anything wrong with the premise, and I’m not xenophobic or anything - I like to think my interest in Xeno Studies eliminates people thinking I’m xenophobic -, I mean, an entire human company became one of the most famous companies for making movies of that very concept. But why is it that, in most cases, voice actors can always sing but it sounds terrible? Meanwhile, singers whose voices sound amazing can be voice actors and be just as amazing at that.

I don’t get it.

But we’re not watching any of those movies this time, much to Tali’s dismay. We’re watching what _I_ want to and that is just a good old fashioned horror film. Well, not old fashioned, but nothing that is a joke or spoof. Seems that if people just run out of ideas for films, just make a spoof version of the genre. Even better, people go crazy and buy that stuff like they’d die without it.

The movie is called ‘Isolation’. About someone going deep underground in some ruined Prothean lab and finding the place had a single creature it was keeping tabs on which broke out. From what I’ve heard, it’s similar to the human _Alien_ franchise - have I ever mentioned my mild interest in human society and arts? - but less thriller and more horror. It was either that or a movie called ‘Lonely Depths’. Rather not watch that one until Tali isn’t with me. It has it’s rating for a reason, after all.

Col’s out to do his rounds within the _Rayya_ so Tali and I are fine and I let Hal do some checking to make sure the movie isn’t too inappropriate. Wouldn’t want to have to explain a bunch of adult stuff to her. At least while Col was out doing his job, he’s managed to get enough stuff to make our barren wasteland of a home look more, well, like a home. We now have some rugs, one on the floor and a few on the walls to block sound, a bit of art and other objects that make the place feel cozy and less desolate. I even managed to install some additional lights into the room using my ‘amazing’ mechanic skills.

I actually found that, aside from programming, it’s one of my more favourite things to do. Economics? Boring. Weaponry? Far too dangerous, and it hurts my arms too much for me to ever consider using them, except for perhaps one of Col’s knives which he bestowed upon me for my name day celebration. Research? No thank you. Fleet and army logistics? Why would I even need to know that at all? Everything is either impractical, hurts me or boring. Programming, gaming, reading and being a hobbyist mechanic? All of that’s fine though as it doesn’t fall into any of those categories. Well, being a mechanic can hurt a lot if I’m stupid enough…

I’ll probably never even be good at that other stuff even if I tried. I’m not a Jack Of All Trades, as humans like to say - their metaphors and jokes are still lost on me every now and then - often enough that I actually know what the term means. I am just a regular Quarian who has found a few things that I am interested in and good at, and that’s all I can ask for.

The movie starts off soon enough, after I get the Holovision working and set everything up. Tali isn’t nearly as interested when it starts up with some regular conversation about something or other. The main character, as far as I can tell, is a human scientist onboard a crew of several aliens: none of them are quarians, however. I frown at that but decide not to let that small feature ruin the film for me.

As time passes, the character endures some stuff that I wouldn’t want to. The ship, affected by a higher gravitational pull than was expected along with a planet-wide EMP effect, brings down the ship which crash lands some miles from the site the main character, Mitch, wants to visit. Stereotypically, he’s the only one who survives and makes his way to the the place he wanted to see in the first place but under completely different circumstances. I was actually pretty sad when the human engineer working on the engines died. He was cynical and grumpy, but a pretty funny character. The main protagonist? He’s fine I suppose but he isn’t that engineer.

As the tale goes on, Tali ends up being more and more wound in the story. I find myself enraptured by the film as well, but not to the extent of my younger friend. The monster, which is a dark and shadowy figure, something between a varren and a human, maybe mixed with a pyjak. It’s similar to the Alien from the _Alien_ franchise in some regards, mainly how it looks but it’s different in other aspects. It’s… more sentient than an Alien ever could be. It has the ability to think of more than finding its next prey. Even scarier, I say. It can kill but can also think much more than a simple predator. I mean, it’s still a feral animal for sure, but it can think for itself and work some basic technology around the facility.

The movie ends some time later with Tali wrapped around my arm. She isn’t shivering or anything so that’s good, but I can tell she got _really_ into the film. More than she was expecting and that was the goal. “You alright, Tali?” I say slowly so as to not startle her.

She jolts only the slightest bit for such little time it was like it never happened before looking up at me and slowly getting off my arm and settling down on my bed. “Yeah, I’m fine now. It was… wow, that was intense.”

“More than I was expecting,” I add and she nods her agreement. “A good film though, I enjoyed it. I hope they don’t make a sequel to it though.”

Tali cocks her head. “Why? I think a sequel would be good for it.”

I raise my eyebrow in turn. “There’s nothing to expand on though. Everything was made good and explained really well, and after _that_ ending. I don’t think that they could really make a sequel.” I shake my head. “It’d only be to make more money. Plus, sequels are always trying to find some way to justify it’s existence where it doesn’t need to be around. I don’t want to watch something like that.”

Tali concedes and nods her head. Honestly, I’m not sure if we’ve ever had this conversation before. Odd. “That makes sense, but sometimes the sequels are even better than the movies.”

I look at her for several seconds before I nod my own agreement. “Yeah. It’s rare, but I suppose it happens. Just think of the ‘Bloodied Rose’ movie and it’s sequel. I guess I’m more cynical than I should be, sometimes.”

Tali shrugs. “It’s fine.” I know it isn’t, but to her it is just another aspect to the complex sentient of me that makes my personality what it is. I should probably work on my underlying cynicism when I can. Overall I’m optimistic, but I have my cynical side which I have done my best to get rid of.

I pat her on the shoulder and stand up before checking the time. Finding that it is later than expected, I do my best to rush Tali out the door so she can return at a decent hour back to her own home. Once she’s gone for several minutes, I go to the window that I have been seeing more than the Education Centre as of late.

I know the reason why I am visiting the window as well. Monotony. With boredom comes thinking, which always circles back to how I am an outcast within the _Rayya_ ; a quarian without proper home and ownings. I have the wrong name, ‘ _Vryntael_ ’, which is not meant to be said aboard this familiar yet foreign ship. And that thought comes back to my father and how he is gone from my life.

I thought I was over him, thinking it would only be a matter of time before I came back to semblance and knew that I could survive without him, even if that life was a lesser place without such an important and interesting character.

It seems I will never truly be over his loss, but I can live without him and that is enough for both him and me. At least, it should be.


	5. Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's happened. The start of Ember's pilgrimage. Some of you (most) probably know what's going to happen from here on... or do you?  
> Really liked how this chapter turned out. I think the description is good, where I didn't leave out too much but didn't bog it down in detail. Maybe I'm wrong. If you want to, feel free to let me know.  
> Anyways. New chapter will be worked on, but might come out slower since I'm currently playing through Life is Strange so forgive me if the update takes longer than usual.

If life was any more monotonous, I’d have died from boredom roughly a year ago. The only thing that relieves the boredom is the time I spend with the much younger Tali’Zorah, daughter of the one of the famous leaders of the Admiralty Board. At least a few of the people who used to make fun of her back off whenever I’m around. Just being older than them gives me more authority and an intimidating appearance, which is honestly pretty funny when they blabber and stumble across one another and leave in a hurry. Tali laughs, as well as myself, and one time she even recorded it. Not sure if I approve of what could be future blackmail, but not like I can just tell her to delete since it gets a chuckle out of me every time she plays it. I’d be sad to see it gone.

Not role model behaviour, but no one should take me as a role model anyways.

The window is nice as well, filled with all the colours of space and planets, neutron stars, pulsars and nebulae. That’s also extremely interesting, much like Tali is, just for different reasons. I have yet to see a black hole but we don’t go to those because of obvious reasons. Maybe when I’m an idiot I’ll see a black hole up close. Doubtful that I’ll see one other than images of ones I can bring up on my Omni. Just like those months ago, I am still seeing the window more than I should, but I have done my research for the upcoming world and what it will bring to the best of my ability, with the help of Hal of course.

Col has been great as a guardian and a friend. Of course, he enforces what he has to, I wouldn’t expect anything less than him, but mostly leaves me as autonomous as I want. He’s done his best to not be sent off into a different ship and leave me alone, which I thank him a ton for, and others understand why he should just remain a fill-in guard and militia, even the captain. Speaking of which, I am actually going to see the captain now. Not that I want to, though.

No, I didn’t get in trouble; nothing of the sort. This is my final few hours before I leave for my pilgrimage. So… Oh Keelah, I am not ready at all. I don’t feel any more ready than I did a year ago. Is this how everyone feels? Ancestors, I hope not. It better just be me and a select group of individuals who feel this way when going out for their pilgrimage.

I’ve witnessed a few people leave for their pilgrimages, mostly just because I had nothing else to do and my father made them come. They were my father’s friends kids, mostly and since they were so much older than me, they didn’t really spend much time with me and I’m fine to have left it that way. I mean, people who are four years older than myself are just fine but I don’t expect them to be my best friend of all time or anything. As sad as it is, I think that title belongs to Hal. He’s been able to come up with a correct response ever since I added that bit into his programming and I’ve been happy that I’ve added it. He can come up with intelligent responses to the things that I say, but that’s really about it… along with the multitude of things he can do. Hal’s my own little project and both Col and I have been amazed by how dramatically he’s grown, even though I’ve made the entire thing from the ground up, so to speak.

I don’t get to bring anything with me, other than one hundred credits and whatever I can carry and feel that I need to bring. Since we’re so nomadic and used to not having a lot though, I don’t bring anything other than what I always do: my suit and my Omni-tool. Okay, fine, I also bring a bag with some basic equipment that I wouldn't be sad over if I had to sell it. I’m fine with that amount. They’re dropping me off on the _Novis_ _Station_ in Alliance space. How they even got into human space, I’m not entirely sure, but I can only assume that their bribes for us to leave their system are pretty damn good. A bunch of minerals and stuff to fix our ships and make more guns, plus some other extra things. Our industrial ships will make something good out of the minerals we have obtained.

I’ve heard some things about _Novis Station_ and how it functions. It’s a frontier station, outfitted with more weapons than usual due to the threat of the Batarian Hegemony, and I’m very sure the Batarians have done the same on their own side of space. It has a good need of mechanics and it’s an ideal place for me to show up and work odd jobs. Okay, nevermind. We're literally just less than fifteen minutes away from a mass relay that goes directly into an Alliance system - thanks person I was eavesdropping on.

Thank the Ancestors that I took up fixing broken stuff when I had the option to. It’s a fun little activity, making things that are hardly anything and make them work like they’re supposed to. Had to add a metric ton of coding into Hal to make sure that I could get the programming work for the machinery I fix work but whatever. It’s worth it, as I have gotten a bit of praise from the younger members of the _Rayya_ and elders alike and even some of my peers who I hardly ever see. I figure that if I can work on a station that needs constant maintenance, I could have steady income to move to the other places in the world that I want to see and maybe decide on what to bring back to the fleet. Information, a new ship, enough material to last a year and a ton of credits for trading are worth my access to another ship for the pilgrimage.

Which I’ll get, I have no idea, but materials and credits seem the most viable options, but I like the sound of being a captain, despite the responsibility that the title includes in the contract. Maybe I’ll get a combination of all four and be fabled, or maybe I’ll just make off with a nice bundle of credits.

The hallways are as crowded as usual, that is to be expected as a fact of life aboard any civilian ship in the Flotilla. If there isn’t a huge amount of people, that just means there’s less power and influence for the captain of the ship and, even in this society, power and influence is what most people strive for. Some people are perfectly content with their mediocre lives and I’m very happy that they are content with life, but there are always those in the lot who are ambitious and dream of huge goals and aspirations. I don’t know about me, personally. I have my idle fantasies where I become an important figure in the galaxy and rebuild Quarian honour and retake our homeworld but I am content that that is what they will remain: fantasies.

Someone else can take the mantle of the greatest person in the galaxy, go ahead, take it. I don’t care. Eventually I know we will get our homeworld back. I might not live to see it, but I know it will happen. And I can live with that knowledge.

Col walks in front of me, guiding me through the narrow corridors and crowded spaces. We pass by bedroll city, which is still filled with displaced quarians - some of them have even started to just settle down and live there permanently, others are still trying to get homes away from where they are constantly reminded of the destruction of the _Vryntael_ \- and move into the closest docking bay; the same one that I first arrived at on the _Rayya_. When I make it there, there is only a small crowd of people. Thankfully. I  _could_ have simply let everyone on the ship to show up and see me off but I think I would die from too much exposure to the people of the ship. I'm not made for being in super huge groups, let alone be the center of attention for one! I can clearly see Tali, her aunt - who in reality was just a very close friend of her late mother - and a few of the friends I made since my arrival on the _Rayya_. Of course, none of them compare to Tali in any way. 

Keelah, I wish I didn’t have to leave her alone. I’m a pretty big figure in her life and I can only imagine how people will treat her once I’m gone. We may have a welfare-based economy and way of living, but that does not bring us free from the clutch of hatred and dislike towards our fellow people. If they keep up the attitude that they have been, I have severe doubts that they will do good on their own pilgrimages. Everyone knows that kindness is the way to victory. At least, that’s my logic and I think it’ll work. I hope. There’s several guards there and the captain himself ready to see me off on my journey. They are all standing like military men, which is exactly who they are. I’d give them the standard ‘fist-to-heart’ salute but I feel that it’s reserved for those who fight for our own, unfortunately limited, freedoms.

Col gives me a pat on the shoulder and a nod as I walk down to meet the captain. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me and I would prefer to just shrink down and not be looked at, but tradition is tradition and I will not break it for my own comfort. This will be only happening for as quick as possible, unless I find that I like life away from the fleet more than I do on the fleet and seek life somewhere or another in the galaxy. The captain regards me keenly, once I’m close enough. I open my Omni-tool as I’m walking and make sure to set Hal to record the audio that I will want to hear.

“Ember’Xaelas nar Vryntael,” the Captain began, “I understand that you are going on your pilgrimage.”

“I am, Captain.” I respond as clearly and confidently as I can.

“As such, we are giving you as much helpful information as we can, as we have all done it before you as I am sure you know. With standard procedure, you will be given two codes to hold onto. One is for your standard return home and one is if you’re in duress and can damage the Fleet. Remember, only say the second one if you are in danger, maybe you’ve been captured by pirates and forced to say the code. Use the second one as that is a situation that could put people on board the fleet at harm and we all don’t want that.

“But do know that using the second code targets all our fleet’s firepower to your ship and the ones that accompany it. You will be killed in the attack, but there is no other option. Understand?”

“Yes, I will sacrifice myself so that others may live in such a circumstance.” I say. It’s the truth; saying it feels right within me and that’s how I know it’s not a lie.

“Now, the first code is the standard one that you say when you are coming home normally. You are not in any emergency that can harm the fleet or yourself and are just returning home with your pilgrimage. Now I will tell you your codes: the first one is ‘Life will drive me ever upwards’ and the second one is ‘Life is but a fickle thing’.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really? Using human poetic speech?”

The Captain chuckles. “Yes, really. What can I say, I like poetry.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” is my reply.

He nods curtly and shakes my hand in an untraditionally human manner. “May you return swiftly with a great gift, Ember’Xaelas.”

“Thank you deeply, Captain.”

With that, we depart and I speak to others about various topics. They all have nice things to offer, even the Captain when I go back to him and speak about what he had done during his own pilgrimage and what I could do, potentially. One of the people I asked had said ‘always do your best to be kind to others, as you are representing our entire race when on your pilgrimage.’ That’s… more responsibility than I want, but there’s no way to decline it so accept it I must.

Others amongst the group give good advice as well, like do as many odd jobs as possible to get to where you need to go. Money is a requirement outside of the fleet and it comes with work. I am glad I did my time studying economics and how everything works so I am not going in blind. Of course, Col taught me a lot as well, but the extranet is a place with as much information as you could possibly need. Some other advice was to always just avoid conflict as much as possible, and do my best to avoid the Terminus Systems as they are apparently not that good of locations to go.

I manage to obtain a lot of good information and tips to help me on my journey from the small group of people who showed up and the few guards spending their time doing their jobs. Hal has recorded them all, and I finally go and speak to Tali. After that, I’ll speak to Col and then the Captain before going into my shuttle and going to the _Novis_ _Station_. Tali is sniffling, the poor thing, when I approach her and she wraps me in a fierce hug that I return, albeit more gently.

“Wish you didn’t have to go,” Tali says and I can just hear the sadness in her voice. I wholeheartedly agree with her, but my time has come and I must do the Fleet proud like everyone else. Such is life. “But, promise you’ll come back with some interesting stories for me!”

I manage a chuckle - if it was convincing or not, I will never know - and rub the hood atop Tali’s mask. “I promise by the Ancestors that I’ll come back with some stories worth telling.”

I can almost hear her smile as she slowly and extremely reluctantly pulls away from me and stands back. I move on to Col who’s standing as tall and proud as one would expect of a military man, but he is more relaxed about it.

He too pulls me into a hug which I return. We stand like that for enough seconds to show we matter a lot to one another, but not long enough to draw suspicion before we separate from one another. “Good luck out there. I expect to see you some time in the future.”

“You can count on it, Col.” Under what circumstances, I do not know, but like I promised to Tali, I’ll see him again. “Thanks for looking after me for the past year or so.”

He nods and lays a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t regret it for a second, Ember. You’re a talented young woman who I’d be proud to call my daughter.”

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks as I thank him again and move down to the Captain. I stand in front of him and let him know that I am ready to go on my pilgrimage. He wishes his best and moves his hand in the direction of the airlock that leads to the most adventurous chapter of my life, I hope. The captain hands me tiny block of technology, made of metal and plastic with a little space for numbers to be displayed on it. I look down on it and see the number ‘150’ shining in bright orange. I can recognize what it is, barely: a credit chit. Something to buy a meal and motel room at _Novis_ before I can find a place to stay without having to pay daily rent. It seems enough money to survive long enough to get a job to start self-sustaining.

With sure steps, I make my way to the door and turn back and wave my farewell to everyone. I am delighted to see they all return it with roughly the same level of enthusiasm. I turn back to the airlock and walk through it, effectively taking my last step on the _Rayya_ for a long time.

The airlock is constricting like it was a year back, but it is under a much better situation so I don’t feel uncertain about anything. I’ll do just fine on my pilgrimage, I’m sure of it, despite what my fears and worries try and tell me. I try my best not to listen to their lies. ...Now may or may not be a good time to mention how I have slight claustrophobia. Some days it's worse than others, though.

The pilot looks out from the cockpit and at me as I take a seat on one of the two benches along the wall. “To _Novis Station_ right?”

I nod and smile, but unfortunately I know he can’t see my latter action. If only we weren’t wearing these damn suits…

“All right, we should be arriving at the system in roughly four to six hours. I suggest making yourself comfortable during the wait.”

“Isn’t there anyone else going on their pilgrimage?” I ask the pilot.

He thinks on it for only a second before shrugging. “Not that I know of. Seems you’re the only one who has one this time. I don’t know whether you’re lucky or not. Sometimes, it’s best to have other quarians to be around since, well, I’m sure you know why, but other times it’s best to just be one of the few.”

“I can understand that,” I say as I begin to fully relax on the bench. It’s comfortable enough, but I know I won’t have a good time sleeping if I doze off. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen often.

“Well, _Novis_ is a pretty nice place. I was there before, no more than… three days ago to offer some trading supplies and credits. I didn’t do the trading though, only flew the ship from there to here once again.”

As he talks, he activates the ship and sends it whirring into life before driving off towards _Novis_ and my first destination of possibly many. I watch the _Rayya_ get smaller and smaller as we pass by other ships. Soon enough, as he goes on about his life and some questions for me to answer, I start seeing ships with weapons on them and know we’re reaching the very end of the fleet. In a few minutes or so, we’ll be on our own in the depths of space towards a human station within Alliance space.

Times goes by slowly - only speeding up when we go through the mass relay, which is always pretty exciting; never seems to lose it's charm - but I somehow manage to fit in an hour long nap somewhere within the allotted time. I thank the pilot for not disturbing me while I slept. When I check how long we have, there’s still roughly two hours before we reach the station and I find myself a new, but temporary, life. When I go and join the pilot, who I found out is named ‘Hees’ of the _Rayya_ , I can see _Novis_ in the distance.

It’s an impressive station, for sure. It’s easily as large as a lifeship and looks to have many different sections on it. From this distance, I can even see the faintest bit of a muddled colour, which going through my memories, I find that it is green. It’s extremely faint, but present, and I can only assume that means that the humans who live on the station grow their own food. What wondrous technology, much like our own lifeships. I can see a tiny fleet of ships moving towards the station, the one leading just starting to dock with it. The ships are a similar colour to the station, a rather dull grey, but I can sense there’s some blue there as well as I can see some purple through my visor.

The star that the station orbits some lightminutes away is a beautiful class b star, a mix of white, blue and purple in an ever-changing pattern. It’s fortunately not that bright, but I know it’s really because of the radiation-blocking glass the shuttle I’m on is using. The station’s docking bay soon reveals itself to me and Hees as we make our approach. Only seconds after, the comms come alive with a distinctly human voice. It’s fine and silky, rich in a way. A wonderful voice to be greeted with. “This is the Systems Alliance space station _Novis_ , please state your identity.”

Hees answers without hesitating. “Greetings, this is the quarian shuttle ‘ _Jyaren_ ’ requesting to dock.”

There’s several seconds of pause before the human speaks again. “On what grounds do you want to dock, _Jyaren_?”

“Pilgrimage.” Hees answers simply. “Quarian tradition. We are willing to pay for docking.”

Once again, several seconds pass before we hear from the person speaking for the _Novis_. “Permission to dock granted, _Jyaren_. Go to docking bay three. No payment necessary.”

Hees starts moving the ship a bit faster now that we’re sure we won’t be shot out of the sky. What a horrid way to go; I can’t even believe I thought that. Hees gives me a look that says he’s smiling and I can’t help but smile in return. I wait in relative silence, aside from the pleasant hum of the shuttle and the ever increasing droning of the _Novis_ , for several minutes as we find docking bay three, labelled by the simple number that the majority of humans use. Once we find it, we do the next obvious action, dock as neatly as we can before I go and stand at the door, ready to bid my farewell to Hees as well. I am only a little fatigued from the flight, despite my short rest, so I still have an hour or two in me before I should search for a place to spend the night.

Hees and I say our farewells and I let the door hiss open before I step out onto a completely foreign ship. The first thing that surprises me is the distinct lack of clutter in much of the docking bay. There’s stacks of crates in odd locations, for sure, but nothing compared to the clutter that is present in many, if not all, of the quarian civilian ships. I heard that military ships are more sparse than civilian ships are, not that I would know however.

Three humans greet me as soon as I really have had my first time to look around the docking bay. Hees has only closed the door but has made no motions to leave. I believe he had said at some point during the trip that he would wait if any trouble came of me trying to join the population of the _Novis_. Two of them are carrying weapons, thankfully not in their hands, but on their backs and the middle one isn’t even wearing armour.

He eyes me for a few moments before extending his hand in greeting, like Tali had done to me what seems so short a time ago. I take the human’s hand in my own and give it a firm and tiny shake which he returns. “Welcome to _Novis_ , Quarian. What is your reason for being here?”

“Pilgrimage,” I say nervously. I don’t think they know what pilgrimage is. I hope they do.

“I apologize, I do not know what that is. Hasan, the man I have no doubts you heard when we hailed you, said it was a quarian tradition of some type.”

“That is correct,” I say. When he makes a gesture of rolling his hand from his left to right, I can only assume he means for me to elaborate on what Pilgrimage is. Great... “Pilgrimage is when newly matured quarians leave the Migrant Fleet in search to help the fleet. They- we integrate into alien society as best we can and work as any other alien with the higher goal of bringing something of value back to the Flotilla. Once we return with something of value, we remain on board the new ship we are assigned to.”

The man thinks on this for a few moments and glances out to the vast emptiness of space, as if he was going to see the Migrant Fleet floating in the distance, before looking back to me. “I see no harm in letting you on the ship, if you are going to help us on this station. Don’t go around making trouble, we will not help you if you lose all your money, and so on and so forth. I’m sure you know the basic rules almost all of known society follows.”

I nod simply. “I do.”

“Right, then welcome to _Novis_ and I hope this over-militarized station is everything you ever dreamed of in your spare time.” He says in a sarcastic tone. “If you go through the main doors there,” he points to a door with two guards standing there, dressed in military armour with their weapons in their hands, “you will enter the market district. The residential district is two levels up and the industrial section, which is not permitted for you nor many people aboard this station to access, is one level lower.”

“What is one level up from the market district?” I ask.

“More market.”

Oh. Well, I didn’t know and questions are the best way to find our, right?

“If you go far enough to the right and down the long corridor, you will reach the agricultural district. I advise not going there simply because there is nothing there to see aside from various fauna. Oh, and one final thing before we depart and you can explore the station at your heart’s content - within the communal space: I apologize if the overabundance of soldiers puts you on edge. The Batarian Hegemony and the Systems Alliance had a little spat some years ago and we are not willing to let our guard down in case they decide to attack again.”

That makes sense. I’m sure the quarians would do the same thing if we were in their position. But, unfortunately, we are not. We are in a fleet that knows no home nor system to be called theirs. “Thank you for being open and welcoming.” I say. Like I had been told only seven hours ago, be kind as I am representing the entire quarian race.

They start to turn away before a question struck me. “Oh, uhm, if you don’t mind me asking, where would I find a place to sleep for the night?”

“Commercial district, or market, whichever you wish to call it. I like the sound of ‘Market district’ better, personally. Apartments that you can rent out are in the residential district. There's also a decent number of motels in the residential district too, if you're looking for cheap over quality.”

I thank them once again leave off for the commercial district. A distinct humming starts up once more and I turn to see the _Jyaren_ start to take off once more, heading back to the Migrant Fleet. I give it a wave and can swear I see a vague movement that looks similar to what I had done as the shuttle lifts up and then starts moving to the docking bay’s limits before it pierces the barrier and goes into the depths of space. At least the station is modern enough to employ the use of mass effect barriers to keep pressure in the station with no need for doors without the fear of being sucked into the cold void of space.

Once Hees is gone, I make my way to the commercial district with gusto, eager to see the world outside of my home the Flotilla. Everything looks unique and interesting, even though it is only basic things done differently because it is another species with a different past. As I make it into the commercial district, I notice the distinct dominance that humans have on the population. There are asari and turians and even some hanar about, but they are nowhere near as populous as the humans are. Makes sense though, as this _is_ a station built by them in their space.

I don’t see any other quarians, much to my dismay, but I don’t let that bring my mood down. There are many different shops all about in the station. Everything from food, to weaponry and armour, to ship parts are sold, even a few clothing shops but I quickly dismiss most of the shops since not many of them actually have anything I could possibly need.

Despite being extremely excited to see everything this station has to offer, the effects of fatigue begin to wear down on me, so I do what anyone would logically do and go and find somewhere to spend the night. I take the communal lift up into the residential district - maybe there'll be a good place to sleep for tonight -, ignoring the intrigued looks of humans on why a quarian has visited their station. Even in the, hopefully, most peaceful district of the station, I notice that no matter where I look, there’s one soldier or guard in my sight at all times. When the man had said there was an overabundance of soldiers… he wasn’t exaggerating at all. This would be ridiculous if I did not know the reason behind the large amount of soldiers and guards throughout the station.

Soon enough, I find a place I can rest at. It’s called the ‘Giani Luxury Motel’. It’s thirty-five credits for a night, so hopefully I only have to stay a single night, or maybe one more, before I find an apartment to stay at. As much as I thank the captain of the _Rayya_ for the one hundred and fifty credits, it isn’t nearly enough to live off of for any longer than a week.

The room I stay at is small but quite fine, all things considered. It’s bigger than Col and I’s room, so take that for what you will. I have a clear view onto the rest of the residential district through one window and the other shows me space in all it’s vast glory. Fortunately, I am on the right side to see the beautiful purple, blue and white sun in the middle of the solar system. There’s a decent bed, a sink, and bathroom so that is nice, but I remember seeing the fridge just on the other side of the elevator when I was walking to my room, so I have to share that with every other resident within the Giani “Luxury” Motel.

Regardless, I flop into my bed and flick on Hal to add in just a _few_ more lines of coding - all about improving his voice modulator - before I fully fall asleep. When I wake up, I’ll go and find myself something to eat and then a place to work. After that, probably a place to live.

Tomorrow’s a new day, and I plan to make the most of it.


	6. Verge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy, well this chapter took a bit to write. Sorry about that. Life is Strange is… my god, it’s good. I love it. I need to do my third playthrough soon. But I managed to write this: the longest chapter (of both Oblivion’s Call and A Life of Sin) at 7.2k words. Pretty astounded by that.  
> Also made some edits to the previous chapter, changing the location of the Migrant Fleet to a system just outside of Alliance space instead of actually being within Alliance space. That and a few other minor things. The next chapter should be out fairly soon. Since I’m out of school for the summer, I should be making chapters more frequently. Hope you enjoy this long chapter.

My first day on _Novis_ greets me in an almost unfamiliar room, save for the view of space and the residential district down below. People move about like insectoids - completely meant in a harmless way - all on a mission of some sort or another, while the sun on the other window shines bright and proud and with a sense of majesty. Beautiful. With a sigh, I tear myself from the view and go to move down and get something to eat and perhaps find work. I could always apply my expertise to working at a mechanic bay to fix ships. Or program VIs and shop merchants to make exchanges of credits for the shop. Or I could fix armour and weapons - with some training, admittedly - or omni-tools, even. My talent has extended over the course of a year in all places where it counts and I don’t fall asleep from boredom. So what do I not know or care for that Hal said was good for my success? A long enough list to make sure I can work to improve what I love doing, rather than improve what I don’t.

The hallways are much wider than the _Rayya_ but just as crowded, somehow. The _Rayya_ is one of the more populated ships in the Fleet ever since the loss of the _Vryntael_ . I’m still sad thinking that by the time the last person on the _Vryntael_ dies, no one will ever have that name again. It will be a distant memory, which will in turn fade into the void of legacy oblivion where nothing is remember. Just how many times has that happened since the Migrant Fleet came to be? Now I suddenly feel bad about not knowing that fact.

I take the stairs down to the main street. Never hurts to get exercise in, right? I pass by a decent number of humans, all of whom give me looks like they’ve never seen a quarian before. Shit, they probably haven’t! I just don’t like how some human males and even a few females give my backside a look as I walk down the stairs. I feel all self conscious about my size now. Back on the Flotilla everything was fine, we weren’t oddities that were like museum exhibits. I shouldn’t let it bother me, but I can’t help it.

Okay, forget what I said about exercise never hurting. I’m feeling a burning in my legs now that I was not needing at all, or wanting for that matter. Great. The body doesn’t have the endurance the mind does, it seems. It’ll wear off soon enough though. At least, I think it will. ...Sometimes I really hate my lack of self confidence in what I think of.

The main streets are more foreign than I would like, but still recognizable in a way. As long as there’s more people than there should be walking about, I almost feel at home. Almost. The distinct lack of quarians and huge surplus of humans makes it kind of difficult to believe I’m on the _Rayya_. I’m shorter than quite a few of the humans in the streets, but I’m surprised in how widely human height can vary. And how different they all look! Xeno Studies covered this topic of course, but I never expected the changes to be so massive! It’s more than just a slightly different body shape and colour you chose to go with your black rubber suit. It’s hair, hair length, eyes, body, shoulders, chest, hips, face, skin- everything! No one looks exactly the same, much like us when we lived outside of our suits. I wish I could have lived in those days. It was a better time for us. Our colonies spread out through a decent portion of the galaxy and we didn’t have to live in suits just to simply survive.

Bright neon signs all display different places, but only motels and apartments that I can’t afford. My measly bit of credits isn’t much of anything that can be lived off of so first thing is first, a job. ...Nevermind, I think a meal of some sort will do me some good. I hope they have a good selection of dextro foods but knowing that humans don’t eat that stuff, I can only assume that it is not in abundance. It seems all of us aliens are considered oddities of a sort to these humans. At least, most of them. What kind of Sci-Fi stories did _they_ grow up on?

It isn’t _too_ difficult to find a store that sells food that I can safely. It’s called the ‘Feed Bag’ a simple store with cheap prices but no luxurious foods, as the subtext under the name says in different wording. Simple things. At least the place is cozy and welcoming of all.

The man behind the counter isn’t even fazed when he sees me, giving me a beaming smile that tells me I am welcome here any time I need something to feast upon. “Greetings and welcome to the Feed Bag, how may I help you?”

Odd thing to say, formal too. Strange. I suspect human culture will never cease to fascinate me. “Yes, do you have any dextro based food?” I do all I can to suppress the urge to tell him my name. It is a habit that I have forcibly picked up.

The man nods, still wearing a smile, and grabs a few long tubes of… food that was also given to me before I left and forgot to bring with me when I left Hees. Ancestors, I can be an idiot sometimes. “Here you are, some completely quarian-safe food that you can enjoy. Flavour may be a bit lacking, I hope that is all right with you.”

I nod and mentally kick myself for forgetting my food. Maybe it was left for me when Hees realized I forgot it in the hangar? Can’t hurt to check, I suppose. Yet _another_ thing I have to do today. Fantastic. “That’s great. How much will it be?”

“Each one is five credits, miss.” The man says and extends his hand, palm upwards, clearly asking for my credit chit. I drop it in his hand and he does a quick transaction and then gives it back to me, wishing me a good day and going to treat one of the other customers in the food… dispensal place? It's not a restaurant, I know that much, so what exactly is it?

I leave with my hand full of food and nowhere to put it. That’s when I realize I left _everything_ I had brought on the _Jyaren_. You’re doing _wonderful_ today, Ember. Quickly, I make my way to the hangar and check the time: it’s been sixteen hours since I first arrived on _Novis_ so when Hees realized I left everything, even once he got back to the Flotilla, he has had enough time to drop it off. Then there’s no disputing it, I will go the hangar to collect my items of need.

I make my way through the throngs of people and back to where everything began here on _Novis_ , for me at least. The guards give me no more than glances as I make my way over to find what I’m looking for. After a quick look around and finding nothing, I decide to ask one of the many soldiers wandering about the relatively large hangar. “Erm, excuse me, do you know where my bag might be? I left it on board my ship when I got here but I suspect that it had been dropped off here in the past few hours.”

The man is relatively good looking; a straight nose, white teeth and deep blue eyes with a softened jawline. He snaps his finger and points it at me within a few seconds. “Oh! Yes, a quarian dropped off some supplies saying someone had forgot it. The ship name was...”

“ _Jyaren_?” I offer.

He snaps his finger again with a quick nod. “Yes, that’s it! Odd name, but we just have boring names for our ships, mostly. _Firefly_ , _Raven_ , _Condottiero_ , _Knight_ , _Dragon_ … not very original if you ask me. Names like that can be thought of within mere minutes! Er, sorry if I am rambling too much. I tend to do that every now and then.”

“It’s not a problem.” I say as we walk off to some place or another for my missing supplies - can’t live without it! Better to have a man who talks too much than too little, I suppose.

“In any case, I would assume your culture is much different from our own and names like the ones you have are pretty exotic.” His voice is pleasant, at least.

“You mean our ship names or our actual names?”

“Both! Culture is always so fascinating when it is not your own. I assume that was why when people could travel from one part of the world to the other in nothing more than a few hours, it was done very often by hundreds of thousands of people.”

Seems I have a xenophile on my hands. As long as he only stick to how amazing and exotic my culture is, I’m fine. No flirting with me, thank you very much. ...Not that I am xenophobic or anything, just, I’m not ready to date with _quarians_ let alone humans! I mean, I’m not even a full day into my pilgrimage! But, uh, if the offer arises I might take it...

“Sorry if this is a silly request, but could you say your full name to me? I would just like to hear it.”

Okay, this guy is borderline creepy. But if it’ll please his xenophilic heart then fine. “Ember’Xaelas nar Vryntael.”

“Now _that_ is a name, Ember! Not like John Hansen or whatever. Odd that you have a human first name though.”

“Are there really that many people called ‘Ember’ in human society?”

“Not that I have met, but it is a human word nonetheless.”

Keelah am I ever thankful for the translator that Col had given me a few weeks ago. I don’t think I’d be able to understand him at all otherwise, or I’d have to get Hal to tell me what he said. This little bit of technology works great though!

“Yeah, I guess it is. Might have a meaning in Khelish you don’t know though.”

“Really?” He says with beaming eyes.

“No,” I answer. We actually _don’t_ have the word ‘Ember’ in our language but if it could probably fit in with one of the clans that originated on the southern part of our homeworld. Some human would never know the difference, unless they were extensive in researching us quarians, but even then I doubt it. We’re not that open to any race but our own.

He looks a little crestfallen and I feel a pang of guilt for leading him on, but he’s a bit too… Erratic for me to like him much. Certainly not the person I’d ever have a friendship with.

We walk for about twenty more seconds or so in relative silence. The sounds of _Novis_ and of distant mechanics grunting and using powerful tools and equipment make sure the place isn’t a sound wasteland and puts my heart at rest. When you can hear the ship, or in this case, space station, functioning and it’s loud enough to always be in the back of your mind, you know everything's working right. The young, somewhat handsome and slightly creepy man points to a crate over near a guard and says “That’s where your stuff is, if my memory of twenty minutes ago serves.”

I would say it does, at least for me it would. I can’t speak for anyone else. “Thank you, have a nice day.”

“You as well,” the man says as a parting and he moves off to do whatever the odd xenophile does.

I make my way over to the two guards who are practically guarding my stuff and chatting. I can’t help but overhear some of their conversation.

“...Heard ‘bout that supposed colony being started on Phaeyra two?” The woman, young and optimistic looking, says.

“Yeah,” the gruff man, who seems an exact opposite of the younger guard, says in reply. “Starting out in a few months, right?”

“Mhm, probably more than a couple dozen people’ll be movin’ there in the coming months. Can’t be too certain, but the place is pretty ideal if I am any judge.”

“At least this place will lessen up on some of it’s military in that event. The bigger a population, the more people who’ll want to defend it.”

Definitely my stuff. I recognize the few items I have within it, mainly a unique little stone I attached to some string when I found the chance. I think the stone’s an orange sapphire. At least, the extranet tells me that’s what it is. And sometimes, the extranet is less than trustworthy.

“I wish the Batarians didn’t hate our guts. I mean, really. Sure, we’ve got tensions over the Skyllian Verge but I mean come on! We’re still newcomers to the galaxy and we’ve already got haters.”

“Not like we don’t have people who hate aliens as much as the Batarians hate us. Some of those fucking blobs of mobile cancer hate aliens and the new technology they want and would rather let Earth die while they’re rich than save it.” He sighs, exhausting himself over his mini-rant before turning his attention to me. Oh shit. “Hey you, quarian, care to join in our little conversation?”

That… wasn’t the response I was expecting but I’ll take it. Beats being told to go away. “Sure. Not sure how much I’ll be able to contribute to the conversation though.”

Both of the guards shrug simultaneously. “Whatever. Gives us a reason to have a conversation at any rate, and that’s what matters to us right now. We’re under no fear of attack yet the Alliance is still scared shitless the Batarians are going to beef with us.” I don’t get the verbiage. “Like, what? They’re going to _actually_ invade one of our worlds or colonizing stations? The Turians already tried that and we fought tooth and nail to defend the place.” The woman remarks.

Actually, I remember extranet news reports going crazy about the Turian loss on some planet or another after the humans lost their planet and then kicked the occupiers right off it almost in seemingly as much time as it took to occupy the place.“I heard you were all fighting like enraged broodmothers to keep your world.”

The older man snorts, not without humour though. “While I don’t appreciate being called a ‘broodmother’ much, the analogy is as accurate as it ever could be. But yeah, we’re nothing if stubborn.”

“You know, the entire extranet practically melted when the Turians were kicked off that planet they occupied for… what was it? A week?”

“I think it was closer to three, but I can imagine. A newly found race who can’t even contact with you other races beats off the most militarist Council race in the Milky Way. There’s no way the extranet _couldn’t_ melt from news like that.”

“I take it your news reports are fairly similar to the ones us aliens have?” I ask.

The woman nods quickly and the man as well, only a few seconds behind her. “Oh yeah. If there were no laws to prevent violence, they’d probably trample half the people they want information from. They’re hungrier than starved mountain lions.”

“I have no idea what a mountain lion is, but I can only assume that it is some sort of predator that eats a lot when hungry.”

“Very perceptive.” The old man remarks with a grin. “But yes, I’m sure you can punch in ‘mountain lion earth’ into your search bar and find something on them, I mean, since we’ve become more in touch with the other races, we’ve practically merged our internet with the extranet.”

So _that’s_ why there’s a huge number of sites all in a language I can hardly read! Well, I can read English just fine, as it seems to be their universal language, but not any of their other supposedly existing languages. Apparently, there’s a decent number of them.

“Anyways, I think this overabundance of guards and trained soldiers is completely unnecessary. What are we going to do if they just blow up the station, anyways?”

“Maybe you’ll be relocated when colonies start sprouting up in the Verge?” I offer. Could be right. Could be wrong.

The woman scratched her chin for a few moments and thought about it, her eyes squinting in thought. “Seems plausible enough. Relocation from Eden Prime and Terra is more expensive than from here, at any rate.”

Ah money, why does everything always come back to you? We only ditched our money since we were hardly able to survive with it in place, but other races? They weren’t exiled from their homeworld after they made a race of workers that revolted and won the subsequent war they fought in with their overlords who, in my honest opinion, were pretty oppressive. Doesn’t mean I like the exile though.

“Yeah, even though Eden Prime’s farther away from here than Terra is, Terra is still quiet the distance from here.” The older man agreed.

Terra? I’ve never heard of that planet before. Is that another planet the humans colonized that we don’t know about? “So, what planet is Terra? I’ve never heard of it before.”

The woman laughs and the man chuckles along with her. “Well, Terra’s just Earth under a different name. Some humans, us included, have decided to call the planet what it is in a dead language.”

“If it’s a dead language, why are you using it?”

“People just don’t use it for conversation anymore. It was used some two thousand years ago though. And scientists from all over the world think it’s a great idea to give things like the bullfrog an outrageously long latin name that has to right to be that long.” The woman says with a roll of her eyes, more to the heavens than anywhere else.

“Anyways,” the older man continues the conversation, “we call our moon, which we used to just call ‘the Moon’, Luna because that’s what it’s called in latin, the dead language. Our sun? We called it ‘the Sun’ but for now it’s Sol. Not for all though, so when someone says ‘the Sun’, ‘the Moon’, or ‘Earth’ just know they’re talking abou the Sol system.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” I say. I wish Hal had recorded it though, but it’s simple enough to remember I suppose. “Wait, isn’t the word ‘earth’ also a word for ‘dirt’?”

The woman rubs the back of her neck and sheepishly says “Yeah, it is.”

I chuckle. “Surprised you named your entire planet after the dirt you step on.”

“Well,” the woman starts, “we named it back when we thought the world was flat and we were the centre of the universe… and that we were alone and created by some giant mythical man in the sky who thought up of literally everything in the universe.”

That just makes me fully laugh. “Your kind thought your planet was flat?”

“The dumber civilizations, yes. Err… less advanced, I should say. Not dumber. The ancient Greeks knew the world was round thousands of years ago and are actually the foundation for our modern democracy. And if you’re wondering about the giant space man, he’s from a religion. We call him ‘God’ in Christianity and a few other religions I believe.”

You learn something new every day. Humans are actually a lot more fascinating then they let on. I mean, thinking the world was flat even though some couple thousand year old civilization knew it was round already, some giant sky man who is the centre of several religions and naming your entire planet after dirt. Simply astounding.

They _could_ have renamed their planet whenever they wanted, even when we first knew of their existence and finally reached out to them, and not in the terms of a missile or chunk of super fast metal. They could have even named the planet after themselves, since they are clearly the apex race much like many of us sentients. But I do have to say, ‘Humania’ sounds worse than ‘Earth’ ever could be. I’ll have to watch my tongue from accidentally calling Earth ‘Dirt’ from now on though.

“You think the Batarians will try anything?” I ask. Seems we’ve got a pair of theorists here discussing how the future might play out.

The woman offers a lopsided shrug. “Maybe. I mean, things haven’t been good between us and the Batarians. I heard they’re tryin’ to appeal to the Council to make sure that we stay out of the Skyllian Verge, but we’re not backing out any time soon. We’ve got a little bit of a race going on to get as much space through the systems as we can right now and probably for the next few years. Ever wonder why we’re trying to get so many colonies sent out into the verge? It’s to claim as many minerals as we can and make sure we’re not ending up with less than our Batarian rivals.”

“Sounds like a conflict waiting to happen.” I say.

The older man nods. “Absolutely. We’re pretty good at inspiring war between both ourselves and other races, it seems. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Batarians fully declared war on us like the Turians would have done if we had not solved things as best we could. It would definitely worsen their relations with the Council if they declared on us, but there’s no knowing just how much firepower they have behind them. For all we know, they could wipe us off the face of the galaxy in a matter of months.”

“Of course,” the woman starts, “we’re buddyin’ up real good with the Council so that maybe we could even get our first human Spectre into the galaxy. It’s probably years off but things can happen, you never know.” Her mood drops a bit when she realizes how she’s speaking of how good humanity is doing like the quarians once were. “And, uh, you might also be able to get your embassy back on the Citadel. It’s never too late to find redemption.”

True enough, but such goals seem unattainable in it’s entirety. We might get our homeworld back, maybe even within the century, but there is no chance that the Geth will ever be forgotten and that we will be able to live without that weight on our backs. “Doubtful, but your optimism is greatly appreciated. We’ll never be able to get rid of the Geth and it’s even more unlikely that we’ll ever be able to find peace with them. But, as you say, anything can happen and the galaxy is still young.”

“Not for us little mortals though, living only around a hundred years, pah!” The older man says with a grin. “There are asteroids out there probably older than the entire collective years of all humans that have ever lived. You know, us evolutionary correct humans have only been around for fifty thousand years, right?”

I shake my head a little. “No, I did not know that. How long has your planet been around for?”

“Around three and a half billion years,” the woman says. “You know, we’ve never got your name. I’m First Class Private Rocha and he’s First Class Private Kubik.”

“Unusual last names.” I say. From what I know from Xeno Studies, human military tend to use last names over first names for whatever reason.

The woman chuckles. “Since you’re clearly not human, I’ll let what could be perceived as an insult slide. I’m sure quarian names are weird to us humans. But neither are particularly English I would say. I’m from Brazil and he’s from the Czech Republic, at least our ancestors are.”

I know neither of those places, but alright. I know they’re countries that are on some parts of the world but other than that, I have no idea. At least I have something to look up in the future.

They both look at me expectantly and I can tell they’re wanting my name. Since most people know that quarians come from the Migrant Fleet, I can safely believe that I don’t need to say where I’m from. “My name is Ember’Xaelas nar Vryntael.”

Private Rocha raises an eyebrow. “Quite the mouthful.”

“Most quarian names are.” I say simply. It’s the truth, I’m only speaking facts. “So, if you’re wondering, I can explain the parts that make up our names.”

The older man, Kubik, nods. “Alright.”

“Our names are made of four parts; the first name, family name, nar or vas which means ‘child of’ and ‘crew of’ respectively, and the name of the ship we either serve for or grew up from. It originates from our tradition of the pilgrimage.”

“And what’s pilgrimage, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“It’s kind of a right of passage for young adults like myself. We leave the safety and hospitality of the Migrant Fleet and spend time amongst the other races with the hope of bringing something back to the Fleet, something useful like a new ship, ship parts, minerals to make stuff within our industrial ships, money or even information.”

“There’s money on the Migrant Fleet?” Kubik asks.

I give him a hand gesture that I’m sure he understands; a horizontal hand tilting like it was trying to go vertical but never fully doing so. “Sort of. We don’t use it, that died out due to necessity to simply survive and it got to the point that people starting injuring and even killing one another over credits to buy things and sometimes just killing the greedy seller. We still have currency aboard our ships that we use for trading though.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” The man says and opens his Omni-tool, checking the time. “We still have some time left to chat if you’re up for it.”

I agree and we continue our conversation, eventually drifting into theories about the Asari and Turians, why most sentient, intelligent races are bipedal - well, all except for the Hanar and Rachni - and if the Protheans had their hands dipped in our genes to make us the way we are. Soon after, we speak about the Council and how humanity might make it onto the board eventually. Then we go back to the quarians and speak of non-classified stuff for the fleet that can be freely shared with anyone, maybe even the Geth but I highly doubt it, and how life is aboard the fleet. Before I know it, a few hours have passed and I feel a bit drained in energy.

Kubik checks his Omni-tool again and looks up at us with a smile that says the words ‘Time to leave’ very clearly. “Well, look at that. We made it through yet another shift, Silva.” Yep, I was right.

Rocha, whose first name is apparently Silva, raises her arms rather dramatically and lets out a tiny cheer. “Yay! Let’s go and sleep now, I’m tired as hell after eight hours of suffer.” Hell? I think I’ll need to look up what that is too.

“I think I’ll go and play some Texas Hold ‘Em with the lads instead. Speak to you soon.” Kubik says with a parting gesture to Silva.

“Mhm, catcha later old man.” Silva says as Kubik walks off. He gives me a parting wave once he’s far enough away and continues walking. Silva yawns beside me and looks me in the eyes - visor? - with a smile on her full lips. “Thanks for stickin’ around and speaking with us, Ember. I might see you around, be sure to remember me for when such an occasion might happen.”

“I can make it a regular occurrence if you’d like.”

She raises an eyebrow, considers it for several seconds and then shakes her head. “No thanks, I’ll pass on that. No offense, but the big man’d kill me if he found I was chatting instead of standing around with drool dripping down my chin waiting for something excitin’ to happen. But, I have Sundays off if you’re interested to talk more with me.”

Sounds more like ‘If you want, we can do on a date’ to me, but I’m an adult now and I can make my own decisions. For now though, I’m going to keep things strictly platonic and it seems she’s going to as well, but I can’t be certain. Humans are weird. “Sure, what time?”

“Erm, can we say eleven on Sunday here in the hangar as the meeting place?” Silva asks.

I nod. “Yeah, that’s a good time for me.”

She smiles. “Great, I’ll see you then. After that, we can decide on something to do while we chat.”

Okay, it’s sounding more and more like a date with every sentence she says. Don’t panic Ember, this might be the first time you’ve ever gone on a date, but you’ll be fine. This is _not_ the end of the galaxy. “Alright, see you then.”

She beams and begin to walk off in the opposite direction of me. Thank the Ancestors. Not because I don’t want to talk to her or anything, it’s just that it’s really damn awkward to say goodbye to someone and then walk the same way practically side by side. I honestly hate it when that happens. First world problems, right?

So, it seems I have planned a date for myself and some woman I’ve known for only the better part of two hours. What even? I think the most astounding thing is that I said everything with relative calmness, even though I was rather nervous on the inside. Okay, very nervous. Who would have thought that I would get a date day one on _Novis_? I sure as hell didn’t and I don’t think anyone else is expected it either. But, maybe I’m just overthinking it and it’s not a date. It could always just be a time to spend with a friend. Never rule out all possibilities without proper evidence that says otherwise, I suppose. And since I didn’t ask, I can’t just exclude some possibilities.

Now I suppose is as good a time as any to go and try to find a job out there, I guess. As I walk back, I take a look at the hangar bay once more and see more than a handful of fit mechanics working on various ships. All of them are handsome, even covered in grease as they are. If I wasn’t already on a possible date and if I actually had any courage in my system whatsoever, I might even walk over there to start up conversation with them as well.

What? I’m not _too_ picky when it comes to people… Personality is what matters, not looks. Even more so for me since, you know, I’m a quarian and all.

The two guards give me a nod as I carry the supplies I came here for out with me into the commercial district of the station and open the doors for me, letting me walk through safely. Once the door hisses and announced that it is officially closed, I take the time to notice just how busy it is now. Rivers of people all flowing one way or another into stores and other districts all seem an impossible task to navigate. Even quarian ships aren’t this busy!

I finally decide to almost dive into a stream and basically let it take me away through the district. I pass by several stores and restaurants as we all move through other streams and rivers of individuals. I can clearly see two stores that look to sell clothes and one that sells weapons. These humans are a lot more relaxed with their gun control it seems. On the Migrant Fleet, if you find someone who is not militia or a soldier, or perhaps a captain who is carrying a gun you are obligated to tell a person of authority immediately so they won’t be a danger to the community. Seems here it doesn’t matter. Or maybe it’s just because of all the worry and tension going on between the Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony. That could be it. Or, maybe it’s a mix of both.

Soon enough I find a mechanic’s shop and make my way inside. I’m sure the station doesn’t really need a programmer of any kind as it seems to be functioning just fine, but a mechanic? They might be needed more than a programmer here. I make my way inside the shop, simply named ‘Mick’s Repairs’ with a subtext of ‘Mechanic Shop’ so it seems like a place where I could find myself welcome. The place is filled with fixed things, some in worse shape than others, and a line of things behind a particularly long counter with a sign that says ‘Fixed Objects’. I grab what looks to be an old hologame named ‘Paragons and Renegades’ if I remember correctly. I don’t activate it though, and instead set it down again after a quick inspection and make my way over to the man behind the counter.

He’s aged somewhat poorly with muscles along his arms and short wiry hair that goes up into a style called a mohawk if memory serves, but it only rises a few inches before falling down in front of his face. Remarkably, it stays within the single strip of hair he has. His skin is tanned with blackened hands covered in a light coat of grease. Gross. At least wear some gloves, man. He looks at me with a plastered on smile that any fool with half a brain could see isn’t genuine. “Welcome to Mick’s Repairs, I’m Mick. How can I help you?”

“I, uh, I was wondering if you are hiring?” I say uncertainly. I didn’t see a sign but it seems he’s pretty short on staff considering even in the back, where I can clearly see because of the big square hole in the wall, no one is there working away on anything. The place is pretty barren.

He considers it for a moment, looks me up and down and then lays his greasy hands on the counter. “How much do you know about fixing things?”

“Spent a year repairing things back on the Migrant Fleet. The education centre said I was one of the best students they had.” Not a lie in the slightest. I have three talents, I’m smart, I’m a great programmer and I’m good at fixing things. Overall, I’m not particularly skilled. I envy those who are skilled at basically anything they try their hand at. It’d be awesome to have that many possibilities on what you want to do with your life.

He scratches at the back of his neck and looks at me with uncertainty. There’s a greasy hand print where he had his hand before. Bleh. Clean your hands, it’s not that hard. “Hm, come back later and I _might_ be hiring. Don’t need anyone else though. Hangar might need someone like you though, quarians are good at fixing stuff.”

Not sure if I like that stereotype or not. For me, it applies so I can’t get all that mad at it but not many people actually used the Applied Mechanics course in the education centre aboard the _Rayya_. But, what the man says is right I guess, I could always see if the hangar needs any extra set of hands and an intelligent brain to help them out.

“Alright, thanks for your time.” I say as I walk out of the store and away from the man who clearly doesn’t want anyone working for him.

Great. Back to the hangar. Maybe I’ll get to speak to those mechanics after all. I stay by the stores and make sure I’m not swept away by the masse of people who are all going in the same direction as I make my way back to the hangar. This would be the third time I’d be going back to it in the past day. A bit excessive, don’t you think?

When I make my way back into the hangar, the guard to my right says a quick “Welcome back.” At least he recognizes me, but I have a pretty distinctive colour pallet for my suit. No one I’ve seen on the _Rayya_ has had a scarlet, black and grey suit that I’ve seen. “So, what are you returning for?”

“Well, I’m on the search for extra money so I was thinking I could work in the hangar?”

The man shrugs. “Maybe, you’ll have to talk to the resident xenophile I think you’ve met before. He’s always just a little _too_ eager to learn stuff about aliens.”

Oh. That guy. “Yeah, I know him. I’ll see if he’s around. Thanks for the help.”

“Mhm, just be sure not to stand too close to him. I think his brain might melt if an alien goes within a few meters proximity of the guy.” The guard says with a smirk. The other guard chuckles and shakes his head.

I bid them farewell, for a few hours at least, and make my way over to the middle of the hangar, on the thin metal walkway that goes between ships. It’s tall enough to walk under and has several sets of stairs that lead down onto the actual floor of the hangar. Soon enough, I find the guy who is more obsessed with aliens than he, or anyone else, should be. “Erm, hello again.”

He stands stiff, turns quickly and then blinks when he sees me. “Ah yes, hello again! Since your bag is on your back, I can only assume that you’re not here looking for it again. Come to initiate more conversation with me, then?” His eyes gleam with the prospect of learning something new about the Quarians.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just here to see if there’s any work to be done. I’m a pretty good mechanic, if I am allowed to give myself the praise, and I was hoping to make some money. The hangar seems the best place.”

He nods and pulls up something on his Omni-tool, shifting it around so I can read it. It’s a job application and I can tell I’m supposed to fill it out. It’s filled with all sorts of information, such as the days I work, not on Sunday fortunately, so the maybe-date is still intact and the number of hours each day: nine. I get paid twenty-five credits each hour I work, which is much better than I thought I’d get - seems they aren’t treating us quarians any worse than humans, as it already displays what race I am. Or maybe humans get paid more. I do a quick check and see that no, the money per hour remains the same.

As if on queue, the man proudly declares that “The Alliance is a firm believer in equality for all, even aliens.” That’s… much better than I was expecting. I was taught that aliens usually treat us worse than dirt, but I suppose the Alliance are still newcomers to the galaxy and don’t really see the fault with us. The Turians, Salarians and Asari do however. I’ll have to report to the Migrant Fleet that humans aren’t all that bad for us Quarians when my pilgrimage is over.

I fill out the application and the man cheerfully says that I can start immediately. I thank him and make my way down to the mechanics over by a particularly damaged ship roughly the size of three quarian shuttles. It fills a good part of the hangar and has a decent amount of holes and punctures in it. Some of the men work on it and others are taking a break and eating. Now that I think of it, I’m starting to get a little hungry myself. Thankfully I didn’t drop off my bag back in my room so I still have my food around and what little tools I used for fixing objects and other miscellaneous items back on the Flotilla.

One of the mechanics, a sandy blond haired man who stands at roughly six feet with a lean yet muscular body, grins at me. “Ah, hello. Who are you?” His voice is kind and masculine. He could probably be the posterboy for the Alliance mechanics.

“I’m Ember’Xaelas nar Vryntael. I was just hired to begin working on fixing something or other and I decided here was the best place to start.” I say as clearly as I can. First impressions are everything.

The man still smiles, never faltering. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. And eh, that’s quite the long name you have with you.”

I give him a lopsided shrug. “Yeah, it’s quarian. If we weren’t aboard the Migrant Fleet it’d only be ‘Ember’Xaelas’.”

“I take it the ‘nar Vryntael’ part of it has something to do with the ship come from?” He asks. I like how he pronounced the last two aspects of my name flawlessly.

I nod. “Yes, that’s correct. It seems you know a good bit about quarians if I may say.”

“You can, we’re pretty relaxed with what you can say around here. None of that strict military discipline bull that the soldiers have to deal with.” He says, his smile still on his face. “Alright, what do you know about fixing ships?”

“Not much.” I sheepishly admit. “I mostly fixed little objects, usually ones I can program after.”

“You program things?” He says. I can tell in his eyes that he’s genuinely curious and kind of impressed. There’s just something about how they look.

“Yeah, I’ve even got myself a little VI to help me out with various tasks.” I turn on my Omni-tool. “Say ‘hi’ Hal.”

The inner ring of the Omni-tool flickers a bright orange instead of the standard blue I normally have it. All going as planned. “Greetings Sir, I am Hal, Ember’s VI assistant.” I wasn’t lying when I said I had been advancing Hal a decent amount.

The mechanic’s eyebrows raise a bit. “Huh. That’s impressive. I don’t know the first thing about coding. Scott knows a few things but I’m sure not as much as you.” He lays a hand on my shoulder and gently makes me look at the ship in front of me in all it’s falling-apart-at-the-seams glory. “You know, this ship needs a little VI or so to help it out and the Alliance has basically left it all up to Scott to make it. Could you program the little guy when we need you to?”

I nod swiftly. “Yeah, of course I can!” Raw enthusiasm courses through me. I love programming and I’ve been asked to do some programming. I believe that’s what’s called a ‘win-win situation’.

“So, you’re a good programmer but you aren’t that good at actually fixing ships... ” He says slowly. “I can teach you what to do when fixing a ship just fine. When do you want to start?”

“The sooner the better,” I say quickly.

“Alright then,” the mechanic says, “let’s start now.”


	7. Mechanical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. I am so sorry for the... 3 month delay. This chapter was more of a challenge than I had expected, mainly because I knew I had to write _something_ instead of just skip a week but I didn't know exactly what to do, so it's kind of a mess of ideas. My apologies for that as well. Then a bunch of other things happened that I will not bore you with. All that matters is that a new chapter is out.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this, as delayed as it was. Next update will be eventually.

The work is easy enough I suppose. With the crew, Felix included, it’s much easier than by myself. But that's just common sense… and a rather obvious thing to say. I am glad I have a temperature regulator in my suit or else I'd be sweating as much as the rest of the group. Thankfully, I have been just fine because of my inability to leave my suit, so I guess there's at least one plus for wearing it. The pay's also good and so far I have convinced my employer, who thankfully isn't the borderline-creepy xenophile, to give me my pay daily instead of weekly. I need to be able to pay for my room for a little while and feed myself, after all.

I've also been looking at getting an apartment but it's only been a few days since my employment and joining of the Alliance Mechanics so I won't be moving out for a few days, at least until I can buy some furniture to justify it. As long as I don't buy anything that I actually have to move into the motel, I am fine. So, for now, I will resist such urges and prove that my willpower is stronger than sometimes even I think it is.

I am by far the best programmer the crew has, which makes up for my fractional lack in skill with mechanics. Compared to them at any rate. I have to remember they've done several years of straight education on this to become the mechanics they are whereas I've spent the better part of a year learning the inner workings of how everything functions and how it can be repaired. I've learned all the basics and am actively working but progress is, as completely expected, going to take a while. Probably a few months before I know the full ins and outs of fixing a starship. The one Felix, the crew and I worked on has since been flown out to join back with the squad it was flying with. Apparently the Alliance are devoting all the military ships they made in preparation for a full out war with the Turians, plus the ships they already made, to hunting down the pirate scum of the galaxy. Good. The smaller amount of pirates we have in the galaxy, the better.

I haven't heard much from Silva and how she is doing, although I don't have to worry about that until… tomorrow. I have still been more than nervous about everything with Silva, simply because I haven't really spoken to her since our meeting a few days ago. I am anxious about knowing what the meaning behind our get-together is. Could it be a totally innocent asking of nothing more than a friendship and just spend some time to learn about one another? Yes, absolutely it could. Could it be a date where things have a chance of turning awkward or even more psyche-damaging, romantic? Yes, that is as possible as the first option. And I _really_ don't like those odds.

The crew, consisting of the ever-handsome Felix, an all around sarcastic individual who goes by the name of Jakob, a happy, if lazy, person called Jurrian, a patriotic gamer girl who prefers to be called Nic instead of her full name Nicla, a kindhearted but somewhat intimidating person called Scott and, last but not least, Kiara the all around grouch who gets just as much work done as everyone else. And then there's me. I fit in okay enough and I am thankful that there's a wide range of people who can make me seem less of the odd one out.

Right now, since we have nothing to do since nothing is damaged that requires the ' _Novis Covenant_ ' as Nic likes to call us - mainly because we all equal some part of a greater whole and are rather inseparable -, we've decided to play some hologames. Mainly ' _Holo D &D _ ' or ' _Holographic Dungeons and Dragons_ ' for those who would rather read the whole name. Who needs to buy and then dress up in a bunch of armour for roleplay when you can just have a hologram do that for you?

"...I will go to the front and try to distract the majority of enemies so they fight me instead." Scott says from the table. I'm just here with my gnome stealthmaster who hides in a sack of coins to remain inconspicuous to enemies.

" 'Yeah, because fifty swords stabbing into me is a great idea!' " Jakob openly mocks Scott on his heroic, if admittedly stupid, idea.

Scott gives Jakob a glare who shrugs at him and looks back at the little holodungeon that's been put up.

Felix scratches his chin and thinks deeply while making a decision. "I will go over to the side of the room to flank the enemies." He too chose to be a Knight. Suits him.

"I'll just sneak off to get closer to the treasure room," I say with a shrug and Jakob gives a huff of a laugh as he leans back in his chair. "The sooner I get the treasure, the sooner we can leave, right?"

Nicla the dungeonmaster - since none of the rest of us actually know how to _be_ a dungeonmaster - nods and then points to Jakob. "Your turn."

Jakob's eyes widen and he thinks on what to do as he looks up at the ceiling. After several seconds, he has an answer. "Fire as many arrows as I can into my enemies, always going for weaknesses."

Jurrian starts speaking as soon as everyone's attention inevitably shift to him. He always knows what to do _right_ when he's called upon. "Stand back and heal Scott and Felix when they need it, cast damage buff spells and the occasional chain lightning when I have spare time."

Finally, it's Kiara's turn. "Just spam damage spells onto our enemies." Although she says it all calm, I can see a small fire in her eyes.

I'm not exactly sure if this was how the old games were played, since the group claims to be playing a version they made up - which Scott did the programming for - and have been using for months. Hard to believe that the entire crew came together because they were all looking for work. Of course, I am the newest addition to the group but before that, Nic was the rookie. Despite everyone in the group being great, I seem to be drawn towards Nic and Scott the most. I am the only person Nic really speaks to in full conversation, for everyone else it's snappy comments and evasion tactics. Scott and I have a connection with our liking and knowledge of coding being the core of it, and we don't speak much after hours since all of us have various things that need doing in our lives.

Felix is nice and welcoming, much like the majority of the crew, but has proclaimed himself the leader of the group and even by spending a single afternoon working with him, you know for a fact that he is the only person competent enough to actually be a leader and the only one who seems to get pleasure from being in that position of authority. In about a week or so, he's actually getting a promotion to that particular role. Jakob usually just keeps to himself and out of everyone else's way when he has the chance, but is not completely averse to small talk if you can stand his sarcasm. Fortunately, most people in the group can. Jurrian is very much a person who can be confident and charming when he wants to, but never really enacts on any of that and seems like a secondary character to everyone else's story, never trying to be anything more than 'just another person'.

Kiara is… difficult. Sometimes. Most of the time, she's great to work with and be around but on other days… not so much. She's like gasoline which is placed too close to the open candle, ready to catch fire at any moment but only lights up when a particularly challenging problem, irritating person or stiff breeze gets in her way.

As we're enjoying our game on our prolonged break, our manager and resident overseer drops by and tosses a datapad to Felix. The man is a hardass most of the time, but when we're off duty and enjoying not having anything to do despite being paid, he's usually of a much more light hearted individual and a genuinely decent person to be around. Right now, he's in one of his better moods.

Felix flips through the datapad and looks up at the overseer with a slightly incredulous look. "Really?"

The overseer nods and walks off without a word. He's always been… weird, according to Felix, despite his kind nature when there isn't a job needing our attention.

Felix gives a glance to the entire team, as we're all looking at him, some waiting for orders, others intrigued in what Felix just learned and those who know it's bad practice to look away even if they're not interested. A few seconds of silence pass before Nic rolls her eyes and speaks up. "Alright playboy, what did hardass give us this time?"

Boss, unprofessionally known as Felix, purses his lips before speaking and laying down the datapad for anyone who wanted to read it. Kiara grabs it and started reading before anyone else can. "We've got another ship coming in."

"And a big one too," Kiara mumbles. "We're fixing a fucking destroyer?" Her eyes snaps up to the Boss who nods.

"Apparently they think we're good enough to take a ship like that. Stars know why." Shit. Destroyers aren't like the few corvettes that roll on through when they need to be repaired. They're much larger and bulkier, about twice the size of a standard corvette. And if a corvette takes around five days to repair, a destroyer should take about a dozen. _Wonderful_ …

"When's it coming in?" Nic asks.

The Boss shrugs and Nic rolls her eyes. "I don't know. Hours, days, minutes… the datapad doesn't really specify."

A couple minutes pass as we gather what equipment we need and get prepared for a ship that might arrive within the next ten minutes to the next month, as it was never specified. Fortunately, it's only an hour or so before the ship appears for everyone to see with their own eyes, rather than technology.

As it drifts closer and closer, I can get more of an idea of how much of a hunk of junk the thing really is. Several thin metal sections of the hull, mostly charred and partially melted or ripped apart - in a few instances, both - lazily drift away from the ship, unwilling to remain attached to it. Some of the glass on the visor of the ship is cracked and most of the ship is a charred and damaged mass of advanced technology. We all collectively wince as the damaged ship comes in through the hangar shield and lands roughly against the floors of the bay.

Some of the crew stumbles out of the ship a minute or so after it's docked and give weary waves of greeting and saying "I'm alright, but sleep and some medical attention might be in order" to onlookers. The captain and who I can assume to be either the pilot or the XO walks out alongside her once everyone else has safely made it off the ship. I am happy that humans have human captains and soldiers to work with and spend time around. It's… so much less common on the Flotilla than here. So much so that some humans might even be appalled if I told them.

The captain is a pretty enough person, but the word 'rugged' instantly comes to mind when looking at her. Maybe it's all the soot and sweat and tiredness she carries with, and on, her or maybe that's just how she always looks. I can't really know. She has a short cut of hair, all risen up in inch tall spikes with some gel or another, but more than a handful of the spikes are drooping. A few scars adorn her face and hands so I can tell she's seen more of life than I have. She carries an air of experience with her and authority wherever she goes, from what I can tell, yet it doesn't seem to be like an iron thumb, more like a subtle nudge in the right direction every time you're unsure of what to do.

She casts a tired smile at Felix, the crew and I as she walks over, patting the pilot or XO on the shoulder as they look on for a few seconds before walking off. She shakes the Boss' hand when she gets close enough and greets the rest of us with a curt nod. "Sorry to show up a bit unannounced. Those pirates have been giving our ship more troubled than what we could fix with our own supplies."

Felix waves the apology aside, distinctly unbusiness-like in stark contrast with the captain. Even now she assumes a military stance, back completely straight and boots held together, as if she was a soldier. "Not to worry, Captain. That's what we're here for. Just what exactly is damaged on the ship, aside from the hull that is?"

"The shielding is rather damaged, some of the floors have holes through them large enough to allow a krogan to be sucked out into space, we lost a lot of hull during the two firefights we were in and we had to strip several of the less important systems to make sure we had the parts for the medbay, engines, piloting and weapons."

"Ouch, that bad, eh?" Nic says with a grimace.

The captain nods. "It is. I really hadn't expected to last as long as we did. Thought we'd have to escape on some of the emergency pods and find ourselves a new ship to serve on. But we made it here without any external incidents, yet there were more than enough problems internally. The engines nearly died on us a few times as we used the mass relays. Not sure what could cause that, but I know you and your team will get it fixed." She directly addresses Nic. She glanced at me several times, perhaps intrigued to see me on the team. Honestly, if I were in her position, I would be intrigued too.

"Not to worry," Felix reassures, "we'll have it fixed up within two weeks. It'll take a while for the engines to be properly tested and fixed and reconstruct the less vital systems to make sure they're fully functional, but those should be the most challenging things. I would say, judging on just what we've heard from you, under two weeks to make her almost brand new."

That's pushing it Felix. I really hope this doesn't mean I have to work overtime, or worse, on Sunday.

This time, the captain's smile is one of relief. She seems even more tired when she shows that smile. "Good, that is great to hear. Let me know on the updates every other day, if you could. I'll pass on my directory info to you or one of your superiors within the day, but for now I'll see how the crew is doing and just take some time to relax because all the Gods know I need it."

"Alright, you take care. Speak with you in the coming days." Felix replies with a wave as he turns to address us.

We all wait for what we're going to assigned towards. I'll probably get one of the lesser systems or maybe hull repair. Maybe I'll have to reprogram some of the integrated and more complex parts of the systems like the engines, medbay, weapons, and who knows what else. Since I am without a doubt the best programmer within the group, despite my knowledge still lacking within that field. I mean, I could always be a better programmer. I still don't know how to completely calibrate the systems for maximum efficiency, or close to. So, someone else will have to manage that for me, but I can get the system up and running and get it to do what it is needed to do. I am happy that there's only one programming language that I have to learn, despite it's complexity. One is bad, several is even worse.

"You all heard what we have to do. And when the ship will be completely fixed and operational to be in combat more. Nic and Jurrian, you'll be handling all and any hull breaches. Jakob and Kiara, you two will handle the weapons, piloting and shielding systems that will then be taken over by Scott and Ember to code and make fully operational. I will handle the engines and anyone who finishes their tasks first will come and speak to me for their next assignment. Do you all understand?" Felix says in a tone more commanding than usual, but that's only because we've got a job to do now.

We all nod, synchronized.

"Good, let's get moving!"

For the next few minutes everything is a blurred mess of gathering tools and materials, finding our partner and deciding on what to work on within our given limit. Scott has given me more of the easy programming than himself simply because I don't know much about programming systems. I'm much more talented programming Hal and other VIs to work and function.

When our plans are made, we make our ways inside and start looking for small systems to fix and then recode. We find the communications have mostly been stripped, save for the comms through the entire ship and to the higher-ups of the Alliance. So, we work on getting the holograms working again and making sure everything works the way it should. We fix the dented metal of the room, making sure it looks like the rest of the ship; polish off what little charring managed to make it into the room, mostly from wires being cut or damaged and still having power running through them, and add in some of the coding that is needed to make sure the holograms function properly; which, fortunately, isn't really much, just a feature or two. A shame they don't just come in all fine and dandy, we have to make some of our own versions. A simple test with Scott's Omni-tool assures us that everything is in working order and shouldn't go wrong any time soon so we move onto the next system.

By then, shielding has been fixed and needs us to optimize it so it could work a little better. Because, while it was completely functional just as is, the coding doesn't allow the little extra punishment that we can provide, even though it'll be pretty small of a difference. Nowhere close to the double-digit percentages, maybe one or two percent, maybe a slight bit more. Scott teaches me how to handle the basics of optimizing shielding to something of a shadow of how it once was before it had to be replaced. Judging by how the place looked, it seemed that much of the system needed to be fixed and remade due to high damage. Someone else can fully optimize that shield when they fly out once more, or even before that. I don't think so, but it could happen.

The shielding takes longer than both Scott and I would like to get it up and running, but there wasn't much we could do about it. Better properly fixed and safe rather than the far worse alternative. By the time we finish that rather difficult challenge, along with teaching me how to actually do decent on my coding, everyone else is already packing up for the day. At least we don't have to program the shielding system right from the ground up; a computer does that when the systems are manufactured or at least the central hub, where everything else from the system is connected to.

I never thought it would take so long to fix a single system, but we've got enough time to work on the rest of them, I think. A day for a system as big and important as the shielding is pretty good, I want to believe. Scott agrees, thankfully. We pack up like everyone else and then say our departures as we all leave through the closest hangar door and make our ways off to do whatever we all do after we're done work. I personally go home and work on Hal and dread over what exactly Silva had in mind.

I mean, yes, I agreed to it and actively made the decision to spend time with her, but now with some forethought, I am now more worried about it than I ever should be. As much as I try not to worry about it, my mind has been working too hard on making it seem so overblown in proportion. If I had the option to not deal with it, that'd be really nice.

I've got two days or so before I meet up with her again though. I think I've seen her a few times since I started working, but never had the time to speak to her since I now actually have a job I need to do. Plus, when I actually _had_ the time, she was not really anywhere to be found. It's odd, but oh well. I just hope she hasn't forgotten.

Bah, I should stop worrying so much and just go ahead and do it. If I mess up, it's no big deal, there's billions of other people in the galaxy.

It'll be fine.


End file.
